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Haoajan Webzine

Haoajan, a multilingual online magazine, serves as a global platform for literature, art, cinema, music, and related cultural activities worldwide. The Bengali word ‘Haoajan’ translates to ‘airborne’ in English, symbolizing the power and potential of words. Like airborne particles, words possess the ability to take flight, to sink profoundly into our minds, and ultimately, to craft something extraordinarily unique and beautiful.

While we are cognizant of the intricate jargons and terminologies of the literary world – such as postmodernism, intertextuality, and cross-cultural diversity – we choose to remain true to our conviction. Rather than getting entangled in this web of complex terms, we have outlined our vision and mission in two simple, yet compelling, mantras.

Imagination Unbound

Firstly, we encourage our readers to keep their imagination unbound. We believe that the power of imagination is limitless, and by exploring it without boundaries, we can unlock a world of uncharted creativity.

You Are Your Storyteller. Enchant Yourself.

Secondly, we desire for our readers to become their own storytellers, to weave their enchanting tales. We urge you to explore the depths of your imagination, to create narratives that echo your unique voice, and ultimately, to captivate yourself with your own stories.

In essence, Haoajan celebrates the power of words and the boundless human imagination. We strive to be more than just a magazine – we serve as a platform, a community, and a catalyst for cultural and artistic exploration across the globe.

HAOAJAN Team, 26th May, 2024.

The Crossing

Just us And the bridge across the river, Nothing else between. Baby steps could have done it, But we did not venture. Watchtowers standing witness, Waves swept the moment away. We just stared, Afraid of the other side In our own silly ways. Distances we make in our minds, Never to be crossed. Bridges die in their loneliness …

Shit Happens

Shit happens All the time We are old stones to know that But when it happens On a beautiful day, On a bright, sunny-blue morning It hurts double. And then you need all you got To believe again To believe that life’s a bonus really Happy hours and all. So, shake a leg Dance a tango while you can, Listen …

While Sitting Alone

While sitting alone You come closer, Putting lips in the Folds of trembling hair You peep through The windows of my eyes. Wanted to listen The secret conversation Hidden in my heart, Embrace them While they weep, Love may flow As salty stream of tears …

Zarina

Zarina was on the way to the shop where she worked; I was driving to my office; after much insistence, she stepped into my car and my heart gonged as she slammed the door and snapped tight the seatbelt. As much as I tried to fish out intelligent things to say, ideas and words sogged in my brain; I asked …

1720 AD

The seamen swing, in fatigued, fevered relish of the cradling in infancy, couched in their threadbare hammocks, the ship plunges into the reshaping trough of waves spooned towards the sandy dash with a green rumple on the horizon, to fill in the blanks of an eager nation. The cargo of half-starved humans shoved out of the stinking darkness and clumped …

On the Ridge

She swims, the water quivers to wakefulness the surface yielding into rainbow-ripples, encircling her like subjects around a queen. She walks, tall tawny locking grasses flex their blades away to tip towards the wild-bud stem-matted earth as she cleaves the scrubland and paws defiantly at the winds from the cracking ice mountains …

When the quotidian wrote our notes of isolation

We were brought up by folks who respected the encrusted time, wound their watches every morning, opened windows to days. They swept the morning breeze with either their prayerful ways or brisk footprints out about the gardens of mint and marigolds. We were taught to eat with hands but not lick the fingers too much, sometimes given spoons to scoop …

New Game On

Map Makers! The new video game in town is here. To play Map Makers the Rulers have stencils and erasers. Also permanent markers. Plus all baton- wielding forces their side. Who knows if things go really awry. The opposition team has brushes, colours, and a few pencils to write with. Plus, they are singing loud, playing drums, dotara, flutes. Who …

The morning is today: a sestina

The postman brought all messages these days with a clot. I waited long at my window thinking: really, but really? Wasn’t it always some sort of a premonition of a strange mixing of the heart’s ache with our blood’s tone eternally lilting and dulcet? So, I open each packet carefully wrapped, imagining if it’s another trick: Shahid’s country dwells in …

Browse our publications

My Kind of Russian Roulette

My Kind of Russian Roulette is a collection of lyric poetry that speaks softly about a young girl’s deep feelings about love, loss and loneliness and her constant search for …

Poetry Nature and Life

Kaveri Temple has journeyed through almost half of this world and her deep observations about nature and life that crossed her path has been beautifully etched in this book. She …