That time of the year is nigh when we look to celebrate and remember all those who inhabit the realm of wraiths. Afraid as we are of ghosts and spirits, the manifest evil within Mankind itself demands greater introspection and right to be feared. Thus, it is worth taking a close look at Halloween, a few cultures and beliefs surrounding the occasion and the sinister veins of evil that run deep within the human psyche.

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This is a re-evaluation of the once popular American novelist and ghost story writer F. Marion Crawford. It provides a summary of his life and career and looks briefly at some of his remarkable tales of the supernatural.

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Loaded with Mythological abbreviations, and Puja ethics, Avik Sarkar's novella Bhog deals with something more than horror. It is the second most important theme which accelerates the plot - Sexuality. Be it Damri or Goddess Matangi, their sexually appealing description takes up a somewhat major portion of the story.

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দেহের মৃত্যুর পর কি থেকে যায় ও কেনো ? আমি কি বা কে ? শুধু মাত্র দেহই কি আমি নাকি মন ও আমি ? করে নিজেকে জানা যায় ?ইহলোকে অশরিরী আত্মার উপস্থিতি ঠিক কোথায় এবং তার কতরকমের প্রকার আছে তা আমরা জানতে পারবো জীবাত্মা ও তাঁর পঞ্চ আবরণ‌ের মধ্য দিয়ে।

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The disastrous 2020 has made us face some of our most fearful demons. One of them being loneliness. The solitary mind can be a prison and sometimes you need a sonic raconteur like The Beatles to set you free. From “I wanna hold your hand” to “Norwegian Wood” and “Strawberry Fields forever”, my mind constantly fluctuates on possibilities and conflicting feelings. This article delves deep into the experience of loneliness and how does the four legends of music articulate their vigour into our lives in these isolated times.

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Darker than grey, translucent --
A silence, echoing back from the past;
Clouds of lights hanging, as if frozen!

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Came out in the greens
After a nap, exhausting-
That felt like a slumber.
They have opened the gates.
Deep, cold and stretched, wide.

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It was the scariest night of the year,
The little guy stepped out of his house in fear.
He was up for a teeny weeny treat,
Coz all he wanted was something to eat.
The house at the corner he came to,
A knock on the door he did do.

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It was the end of November,
A night still young and tender.
Along the river I strolled,
Pondering over thoughts involving the drunken brawl.
And across the river, a tower stood high
Whence the light fell on the alley nearby
It seemed I saw a figure
Padding barefoot through the vennel.

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Even my cove's wall has harm absorbed
Try not to breathe in the wind, this October
Unsafe is the white oak tree, barks at risk
The Druid spells failed,
The bad vampires staked the solace.

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Hunger,
Starvation,
Bite my sweet slithering tail.
Lust,
Greed,
Another dreary tale.

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I wander off into the wild
Now and then
To find solace in aloneness.
They ask,
“What have you done to yourself?”
They ask me,
But not to themselves.

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Empty evening blending with the purple sky, they whisper affairs,
Vastness of truth painted across my lament,
The air, so timid and soft, she kisses my hand,
Paving cobbles for the inert pink to blush.

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