An exclusive excerpt from Six Stories of Swapnamoy Chakraborty, Translated from the Bengali by Chaitali Sengupta (The Antonym Collections, 2026).
A Tale of Mourning
I am waiting for the autorickshaw.
A sari embroidered with zari hangs from the newly built flat on the opposite side. The balcony is lined with four or five different types of jars, surely filled with pickles. They’re definitely non-Bengali. Ever since the Metro rail began operating, flat prices here have become impossibly expensive.
Most of the buyers are non-Bengalis. On the mobile vegetable van, alongside pumpkins, etc. I see tindora (ivy gourd), mint leaves, off-season tomatoes, and a few other things. The vegetable vendor is effortlessly calling lau “lauki.”
A bus is approaching. I’m going to Dum Dum station, just three stops away. The bus takes six minutes. Fare: one rupee. An auto would cost one and a half. Nirmalendu Mitra, or perhaps Maitra, is standing nearby.
He didn’t get on the Block B bus. There’s a strong smell of Eau de Cologne coming from him. A few days ago, a newspaper supplement ran an article titled Become Attractive to Women. It said: “Apply Eau de Cologne.” Has the Eau de Cologne craze started since then?
Another man arrives, wearing a safari suit. Goodness, a safari suit in this heat? He has paan in his mouth. Definitely non-Bengali. He spits a streak of red and, looking toward Jayanta, says, “Sir, very sad.”
An auto shows up. I squeeze into the small seat on the driver’s left side. I’ll catch the 9:32 metro. But why did that man in a safari suit say “sad”? Sad about what? Something about Ongshu?
The day before yesterday, in the afternoon, a ball hit Ongshu on the head. Ongshu and his friends don’t play; they watch matches. On TV, on VCP, and sometimes live. There’s a slum-like settlement nearby. The boys there play on a small patch of ground in front. Ongshu watches them play live. Since it was a holiday the day before yesterday, I was home.
In the afternoon, he was sitting on the balcony, watching. He said, “Baba, will you buy me a pair of binoculars?” I said, “Okay.”
The ball hit Ongshu on the forehead. A little to the side, and it could’ve hit his glasses. Plus three, thick lenses. That might have damaged his eye.
In the evening, I told the SBRA secretary about it. SBRA— as in Sur Bihar Residents’ Association.
This area used to be a lowland, covered with water hyacinths. The Sur family owned the land; it was called Surer Math, the field of the Sur’s. Then, one by one, the field began to fill up with apartment blocks. The flat owners formed an association.
The name Surer Math was changed to Sur Bihar. It was actually my idea. Abantika Som, the bank manager, had said, “How sweet!”
I work as a PRO in a government undertaking. My literary pursuits have been completely ruined. I used to write once. Perhaps that’s why they appointed me as the cultural secretary of our Association. I’m also the editor of Sur Bihar Sarbojonin Souvenir.
I had told the SBRA that the games had to be stopped. A few days ago, Abantika Madam’s glass pane was shattered. And today, Ongshu’s eye was spared by just a little.
This so-called game of theirs is a complete nuisance. They even use foul language sometimes while playing. The Commissioner ought to be informed about this. So, the secretary said, “Please draft a petition.”
That “Sad, very sad” from the man in the safari suit—was it about that?
But nothing really happened to Ongshu, not seriously. Now, rumors have begun to spread. The fact that something could have happened to his eye, maybe that’s what has grown branches and offshoots.
Just the other day, Sudhir Bose suddenly started sweating heavily and lost consciousness. Dr. Kanjilal happened to be at home at the time, so he was called in. Sudhir babu’s blood pressure had dropped sharply. His wife told Dr. Kanjilal that there had been a shortage of 10,000 rupees at the bank the previous day. Sudhir babu is the head cashier.
The day before yesterday, I went to buy broiler chicken. The jeans-wearing, B.Sc.-pass shopkeeper said, “Can I ask you something? That Sudhir babu from your neighborhood, has he really been suspended?”
I said, “What? No, not that I know of. Who told you?”
The boy said, “I just heard. He hasn’t come in for many days, so… it may be a rumor,” and shrugged his shoulders slightly. Apparently, he had studied up to Class 8 at Saint Mary’s School.
This evening was overcast. On my way back from the office, I picked up a nip of whiskey. Rajat, on the third floor, is doing well, a bachelor. Will he be at home this evening? Oh yes! He’llbe there today. Tonight, there’s the Miss World contest live on Star. That’ll be fun. Maybe I’ll make some chili chicken, I’m good at that. Once that’s done, I’ll ask Anjana to make some chowmein. Meanwhile, I’ll give Rajat a taste of the chicken. I no longer drink at home. My wife keeps nagging. Says, “Ongshu understands everything.” Well, let him understand. It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong.
Excerpted with permission from the author and the publisher of Six Stories of Swapnamoy Chakraborty, Translated from the Bengali by Chaitali Sengupta (The Antonym Collections, 2026).
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About the Book
Swapnamoy Chakraborty’s style spans over a spectrum of tales. From grief, to gender, there is something for everyone. Readers come back to his work because of his ease with language, and it is this ease that Chaitali Sengupta captures in her translations of these six stories from the celebrated Bengali story-teller.
This rendition in the Six Stories Series also contains an exclusive interview with the author himself, as he delves into his beginnings as a writer, readership in the modern world, and translation as a craft.
Author’s Bio
Swapnamay Chakraborty is one of the eminent literary personalities in contemporary Bengali literature. Born on 24th August 1951, he grew up in Bagbazar, Kolkata. As he himself mentions, he grew up in a large joint family structure with streams of guests constantly arriving, which was typical of families settling from the other side of the border. He began his life as a salesman, selling matchboxes, and eventually earned a government job. He spent the last three years of his career at the Indian Statistical Institute before retiring. His literary career began with short stories in the seventies. Although one of his earliest short stories was published in Amrit, he was regularly published in small magazines and other lesser-known publications. His storytelling is immensely varied, as is evident even from the stories included in this volume. He wrote on social issues, partition, gender issues, and ecological concerns. He also wrote speculative fiction that borders on contemporary social concerns. His first novel, Chatushpathi, was published in 1992 in the Sharadiya issue of Anandabazar Patrika. With this, he established himself as a novelist as well. Since then, he has written several novels on a wide range of topics. In 2005, he was awarded the Bankim Puraskar for his novel Abantinagar. His novel, Holde Golap (Yellow Rose), a narrative on alternative sexuality, had won him the prestigious Ananda Puraskar in 2015. He has recently been awarded the Sahitya Akademi Award for his novel Joler Upor Pani, which is based on the partition and its lingering traumas. He has also written several short stories about women’s conditions in society, and most of them have been anthologized in the volume Sab Galpo Meyeder (All Stories Are About Women). Swapnamoy Chakraborty also carries forward the rich legacy of Bengali flash fiction, which had already been popularized by eminent authors such as Banaphul and Manik Bandopadhyay, among others.
Swapnamoy Chakraborty, a versatile voice in Bengali literature, has also been translated into English, but that is not enough. By selecting six of his stories, an effort has been made to uphold the richness of his craft. If this endeavor can generate greater interest among readers beyond Bengali, its intention will be fulfilled.
Translator’s Bio
Chaitali Sengupta is a writer and translator of poetry, fiction, and non-fiction. Also a reviewer and journalist, her debut collection of prose poems, Cross Stitched Words, received an Honorable Mention at the New England Book Festival 2021. Her most recent poetry collection, The Crossings: Poems on War, Migration & Survival, was awarded the Runner-Up prize at the London Book Festival 2024.
An accomplished translator with three published works, she received the prestigious IPPL Translation Award 2024 for Timeless Tales in Translation. Her latest publication, Across the Luminous Realms & Other Stories, is her English translation of the renowned Dutch novelist Louis Couperus. She has also co-translated Legends Speak: Bengali Women’s Narratives in Translation, a groundbreaking volume showcasing the works of three iconic Bengali women writers—Swarnakumari Debi, Ashapurna Debi, and Suchitra Bhattacharya.