Bridging The Divide - Abir Sawran - Wattpad

Story cover for Bridging The Divide by Abir_Sawran

Bridging The Divide

Leituras 35
Votos 9
Capítulos 3
Tempo 20m

Leituras 35
Votos 9
Capítulos 3
Tempo 20m

bengali british colonialisation conlfict dilemma domination english language literature perception poetry postcolonial postcolonialism psychological story subaltern

As the sun sank beneath the skyline, the port city of Chattogram was showered in a brilliant hue. The scent of salt and spice blends into the talk of the city, mixed with the mutter of ships and the thunder of the evening swarm. Within the middle of this chaos, Arif stood at the edge of the wharf, overlooking the Bay of Bengal. The waves whispered many insights to him, but the words were bizarre and unsettling. 

... 

Arif murmured, 

"Conceivably. Composing in English feels like walking a tightrope. One wrong step, and you lose your balance." 

... 

The pieces fell into place. His verse started to reflect the duality of his life - the amalgamation of his legacy and his yearnings. 

...Todos os Direitos Reservados

bengali british colonialisation conlfict dilemma domination english language literature perception poetry postcolonial postcolonialism psychological story subaltern

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ON HOLD! 𝐀 𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐨𝐟 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐩𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫, 𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐞𝐟𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐞, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐥𝐮𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧. Bengal, 1853. Chitrakshi was fourteen when she first stepped into the grand halls of her husband's home-a world where women lived in whispers and men held the weight of power. She was a child bride, bound by sacred fire to Mayukh Choudhury, the Naeb of an indigo plantation... a man who did not belong to her, nor she to him. He was distant not cruel, but practical. To him, love was a distraction, and justice a dream too fragile to touch. Yet, the soil of Bengal was restless. The farmers bled for the white man's dye, drowning in debt, their fields chained to a crop they could neither eat nor escape. Chitra saw their suffering, their silent cries, and for the first time, she defied the silence that bound her world. But Mayukh, her husband, stood on the other side. Between them grew an unspoken war: one of ideals, of duty, of love not yet understood. He admired the British for their discipline, she despised them for their cruelty. He spoke of power, she spoke of justice. He held back, she ran forward. They were bound together, yet pulling apart -two forces neither meeting nor breaking free. 1859, A lot had happened in the past six years. As the world changed, as history was being written in blood and ink, she clung to the only thing left of him -a hundred letters sent, never read, never answered. But when the last letter is finally written, will love still remain? INDIGO: THE HUNDRED LOST LETTERS is not just a tale of the past. It is a question that lingers even today: What does it mean to wait for someone who may never return?