Transcience Stories

A band of infinite steel against a limitless charcoal sky, the St. Lawrence apathetically watches the approach of Winter’s cold as he carelessly holds the metropolis beside his bed like an exhausted harlot is held in the moment before her escort pays her for her soul. Both were colourful riots of fun and passion now spent and fading already into grey memory against the weight of eternity.

There was once this boy. Of our times. The time of dust and traffic jams. An ordinary boy. His name is not important. Let him be every boy. If this problematises the situation, we could call him “X” or maybe “Tom, Dick or Harry” perhaps? But then again…let us familiarise him. He is from a place called Kolkata. So let him be a “Rahul”.So this Rahul. A common name for a common boy. What could he do? He is a student. A “good...