The first thing Chadni noticed about Bangladesh was the dust. The moment she stepped off the plane, it was everywhere: in her eyes, her nose, her mouth, her sun kissed skin. …

My name is Tania. I’m a 28 year old native New Yorker and a first-generation American, and I just purchased my first home. Like many people who grew up in low-income communities in New York City, I compromised on living space and spent my entire life in tiny apartments where…

Writing Prompt: Tell the tale of a life-changing interaction between a captivating driver and unsuspecting passenger. Please excuse any unfinished stories, as I pick back up whenever inspiration strikes. — — — — — — — — — — “Taxi?” I stared in wonder at the yellow taxi that had…

An extended family of six gather in a circle for a cup of chai following a full day of fasting. Three sisters and their adult children share wildly different experiences straddling the world they left behind for the lives they lead today. (Fiction Writing Exercise) “It was hard at first…

This is a repost of my story for Brown Girl Magazine. On a balmy winter night in New York, a young woman named Christina Yuna Lee was murdered in her Chinatown apartment. Earlier that night, a few friends and I decided to grab dinner in Chinatown. Following a hearty meal…

This mini-story is part of an anthology I’m working on based loosely on events that took place during my childhood. All stories involve characters who played real-life roles during my upbringing in the Southeast Bronx. Names changed for anonymity. — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — He took a long drag of his cigarette, then proceeded to crush it between his fingers. The butt, still glowing alarmingly red, disappeared into the side of his index finger…

How do otherwise calm people find a healthy outlet for pent-up anger? Lately, I’m finding myself on the precipice of a tipping point. Ask me how I feel on a given day, and you’ll notice my response tends to change by the hour. …

Two teenage boys are swept up in the early throes of an unexpected adolescent romance. This is a free-hand creative writing exercise. I don’t often find South Asian men represented in these kinds of stories so I wanted to incorporate such a character here. …

“Lytton.” I blinked. “What?” Abbu nodded. What could only be described as a bashful grin split his face in two. “Lytton,” he confirmed. I furrowed my brow, incredulous. Visiting Dad several times a week was high on my “To-Do” list these days, particularly if I wished to…