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The delicious smell of the Hilsha fry made Shima reminisce the days when her mother would fry the fish. The special aroma of the fish would lure them to the kitchen long before the cooking was complete. The moment it was served they would virtually fight for the pieces and the plate would be empty immediately. Her mother would always save some good pieces for their father. Ma herself would only eat a small piece declaring that she had lost her appetite while cooking. Now as her own mouth watered while frying the fish, Shima comprehended that Ma only said that so that her children could delight their taste buds by devouring her share.

Thirty years afterwards Shima was imagining how her own children would feast on the same fish fries. "Time changes but the incidents don't.

That's what legacy leaves for us," Shima mused. Maybe her own daughter would cook the fish fries with the same feelings she and her mother treasured in their hearts.

She made a quick little list of what she must do regarding the fish fries. She must salvage some good pieces for her husband Hasan. She must make sure that her youngest son Faiyaz eats the fish carefully so that the fish bones would not get stuck in his throat. He's such an epicurean that she wouldn't be surprised if he eats several pieces. She knew what Fariz would do. He'd taste the fish, compliment her cooking and potentially wait for his mother to serve another piece. Her daughter Faria doesn't like fish - but this was Hilsha! May be at first she'd eat it unwillingly after eating she'd simply love it and would be bashful to express her appreciation.Shima set the table for dinner. It was still daylight in Oslo, but the clock said that it was dinner time. She couldn't wait to tell her family of how she had managed to obtain the deshi fish inaccessible in Norway.

Her youngest son, the first to be home had a reason for his delay, he said, "Oh Ma, didn't I say you that Paul was supposed to give his birthday treat today? Look my tummy has bulged after eating the triple layered hamburger."

Just then Faria entered. "Oh, Ma! Not fish for dinner! I'll order pizza for myself" Before Shima could speak, she had slammed her door. Fariz came in after some time, greeted her and declared, "I've exam tomorrow…had my dinner with Jon…make sure no one disturbs me!" And he was behind the door where a "Please do not disturb" sign hung.

After an hour when her husband declared that he had no wish to eat the Hilsha which surely contained unhealthy preservatives, Shima found herself throwing the fries to the bin. "How can I have appetite to eat it, after cooking!" she mocked to herself

The only one to relish the sumptuous fries was a homeless man, who happened to rummage a dustbin of Oslo the next day.

By Kazi Priyanka

One Fine Day

May 27 2005, 22:25
"Hey Richard it's a call for you"
Richard can hear his mother's voice very loud as his house is a big one and his room is quite far from his parent's room. Richard feels a bit irritated. He was doing something important. While on the way he apprehends
that it's Angie. Angelina Mercer is the name; she's Richard's best friend.
Richard: What's up?
Angie: You know what moments ago I asked out.
Richard: Yeah, big deal…like it's news. You fair-looking girls always get proposed to; and you called me for
that! By the way who is this new idiot?
Angie: What? Do you mean it takes an idiot to fall in love with me?
Richard: Yeah. Of course.
Angie: Shut up! Listen you know Jim; he asked me out. I am so depressed.
Richard: You should be. He's your friend Caroline's boyfriend and before he hooked up with Caroline he had countless affairs.
Angie: I know. He told me he would leave Caroline for me. They are having a hard time you know.
Richard: So you are defending him! Wow! So what are you waiting for? Go get him.
Angie: You are such an idiot. Though he's a flirt; he's been a good friend. I don't want to lose him.
Richard: Listen Angie this guy at present is cheating on his girlfriend; what's the guarantee that he
won't cheat on you?
Angie: Hey Einstein, I refused his proposal.
Richard: Sometimes you do make sense. Angie I think you shouldn't keep up this friendship with him. He isn't an honest guy, is he?
Angie: Yeah, you are right. Hey I've got a mail from Kidman.
Richard: You mean that secret net lover of yours who has nothing to do other than keep mailing you big love
Angie: Yeah, and I have printed all of those. I think he's kinda cool.
Richard: Come on Angie, come to the light.
Angie: Why do you always think negative? His letters are awesome and he always says that he has no
expectations from me.
Richard: I don't wanna talk about this anymore do whatever you want it's your life. I've work to do. Bye
Angie: Ok, then bye.
She still held the receiver, listening to the dial tone. "Why can't he love me?" He's one guy
who never got intimidated by her beauty, always teasing her. One fine day she'll tell him that she loves him
Kidman looks at the monitor while his mail is delivered to Angie. He has strong feelings for her. "Does she love
me?" One fine day she'll tell her that he loves him. His concentration breaks at the sound of his mother's voice. "Hey
Richard it's a call for you."
"Who is it, ma?"
"It's Angie"
They start talking. It'll happen. It's their destiny. It'll happen for sure. One Fine Day..............

By Wasim hasan

Against the tide

Can things get more boring? It was the last period of Tuesday, the teacher left, I was tired and I desperately wanted to go home. But the damn bell wouldn't ring!
Instead I get to hear Ifaz glorifying himself over God knows what. And Mohiur decided to keep me company. God was personally trying to make me miserable.
Mohiur is the new boy in our class. He is pudgy with thick lenses and a love for school text books. Just the kind Ifaz loves to hate. And Ifaz is the Mr. Popular-cum-class captain of our ninth grade class . At that moment, everybody was huddled around Ifaz looking enthralled. My ex-best friend Towsif was among them. Not surprisingly, Abir Islam, was not interested in them.
Crinnggggg! Finally!
I swung the door open and almost ran into my elder sister Priya. It's a good thing she didn't notice me. A lecture on 'the impact of disheveled hair on one's social image' would have been the last straw.
Being in the same family as Priya is very difficult, to say the least. She is sophisticated, gets straight A's and has tons of after-school activities. I am just mediocre in everything, except maybe physics.
At dinner that night, Priya smugly informed us of a school play she going to 'star' in. Then dad asked if I was interested in drama clubs.
"No, dad.'', I said flatly.
"Oh." Dad sounded disappointed.
"So you don't have any hobbies and your grades are always average. I get so embarrassed when the bhabis at school ask me about you." Mom huffed in frustration.
Honestly, you would think my grades are more important than I am!
I went to bed without finishing my chemistry homework. I abhor chemistry. It was mom's idea to take it. I was feeling troubled about Towsif. Recently, he decided avoiding me was essential to be cool. I wondered exactly how secure his path to popularity is.
I arrived too early at school on Wednesday. Apart from a few school bags, the whole room was empty. Just like my life, I thought bitterly.
"So you paint landscapes, like gardens, flooowerss?" Someone was speaking in a fake nasal voice. I looked out and saw Ifaz cornering Mohiur.
"Yeah.", answered Mohiur timidly.
At this, Ifaz and his friends laughed so hard I thought they might trip.
And then , purely on impulse, I walked up to them and said, " Very funny Ifaz. You painted flowers until last year. It's no big deal."
Everyone halted for a minute. Then they stomped off, looking extremely displeased.
"Thanks." , said Mohiur.
"I did nothing." , I admitted.
"You're battling against the tide. Others are giving up. That's something," Mohiur said before walking away.
As class began, I realized that Mohiur had knocked sense into me. Not being like Ifaz or even Priya is no reason to be depressed. I rather be myself than pretend to be someone else and be popular. I suddenly felt very ......untroubled.

By Samira Rahman

The pickpocket

It was a dark, wet night. I walking down the sloppy, foggy streets of London, trying to find my way to the post-office. I wanted to complete my assignment quickly and get out of the dismal weather. How homesick I felt! Sometimes, it was all I could to from stopping myself from jumping onto a plane and flying home.

I pulled my raincoat more securely over my chest, checking to see if my hat was on my head if and the precious package was still there. The rain started pouring down harder. I began to feel panicky. I just had to find to post-office before it closed! And to top it all off, I had no clue where I was.

I stopped by a small boy who was standing under a torn umbrella and trying to (unsuccessfully) sell matches. 'Could you please tell me the fastest way to get to the post-office?' I asked thickly. Curiously the boy looked up at my foreign accent and told me what I needed to know.

I hurried to the way he pointed, praying that the post-office hadn't closed. When I reached there, I urgently requested to send a parcel for me by express mail, which had been introduced recently. I knew the fee would cost me dearly but money was no matter. I took out my bag to remove the envelope but to my horror, I couldn't find it! The clerk told me he would give me twenty minutes to look for it, after which he would have to close up.

I rushed out, agitated. That package contained copies of the new top secret submarine that the British were building. The Russians were ready to pay a fine sum to get their hands on them. Since I was already a close friend of the admiral who was in charge of the naval plans, it was a cinch for me to copy them. I was to send them by ordinary post, to avoid suspicion.

As I squinted through the gloom, despair washed over me. I had walked the whole way, it could have fallen anywhere. Suddenly, I remembered that I had had the package before I had met the boy I asked directions from. I retraced my steps and found him. When questioned, fear came into his eyes and he tried to run, but I deftly caught him.

After shaking him quite a bit, he confessed he had pick pocketed my coat but only because he desperately needed money for his mother's operation. I looked at him carefully. He sounded sincere and there was a touch of sadness in his voice. I took pity on him let him go.

With the envelope safely in my possession again, I quickly hurried over to the post-office and waited patiently while the clerk out the necessary stamps on the envelope. 'Seems important' remarked the man, glancing at the ref CONOFIDENTIAL stamped on it. 'It sure is' I replied breezily and walked out.

After a few days, an envelope arrived for me. It was a check from my employers, with an amount written on it that would make anyone swoon. It was so large that I decided to give a quarter of it away to the small boy to make his mother better.


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