Shohel Rana
Bio
As a professional article writer for Vocal Media, I craft engaging, high-quality content tailored to diverse audiences. My expertise ensures well-researched, compelling articles that inform, inspire, and captivate readers effectively.
Stories (372)
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The Whispering Banyan
The evening breeze carried the scent of jasmine through the narrow lanes of Barisal, where Imran sat on the balcony of his family’s old home. At thirty-one, he was a photographer based in Dhaka, known for capturing the raw beauty of Bangladesh’s rivers and markets. But tonight, his camera lay untouched, his mind tangled in the letter he’d received that morning. It was from his cousin Farida, written in a hurried scrawl: “Imran, come to the village. Nana is gone, and there’s something you need to see. It’s about the banyan.”
By Shohel Rana7 months ago in Fiction
The Clockmaker’s Gift
The air in Mira’s childhood home in Chittagong was thick with the scent of old wood and monsoon damp. At twenty-seven, she was a freelance writer, accustomed to the frenetic pace of city life in Dhaka. But now, standing in the living room where her father once read her bedtime stories, she felt unmoored. His sudden passing two weeks ago had brought her back to this house, a place she hadn’t visited in years.
By Shohel Rana7 months ago in Poets
The Weaver’s Song
The morning sun spilled over the rooftops of Sylhet, casting golden streaks across Arif’s tiny apartment. At twenty-eight, he was a math teacher at a local school, known for his quiet demeanor and knack for making numbers feel like stories. But today, his mind wasn’t on equations. A letter lay open on his table, its edges creased from being read too many times. It was from his aunt in a village near Moulvibazar, a place he hadn’t visited since he was a boy.
By Shohel Rana7 months ago in Fiction
The Lantern’s Keeper
The rain tapped softly against the window, like a friend asking to be let in. Rhea sat in the corner of her small Dhaka apartment, cradling a cup of tea that had long gone cold. Her eyes held a distant gaze, as if she were searching for something just out of reach. Outside, the city’s chaos—honking rickshaws, vendors’ calls, and the hum of life—blended into a familiar hum. But to Rhea, it all felt muted, like a song played too far away.
By Shohel Rana7 months ago in Fiction
The Letter She Never Sent
The Letter She Never Sent Nora had always believed in writing things down. From grocery lists to unsent love letters, her life was inked in journals and forgotten scraps of paper. Words were safer that way—silent, controlled, trapped between margins where they couldn’t betray her. She had written hundreds of letters over the years, but there was one letter she could never bring herself to send.
By Shohel Rana7 months ago in Fiction
Grief’s Canvas
Painting Through Pain I stood in a cramped basement gallery last month, staring at a canvas by Perla Santiago, a contributor to Salt in the Wound. The painting was raw—swirls of crimson and ash gray, a figure clawing upward from a scorched earth, its face half-formed but screaming life. It wasn’t just art; it was a wound laid bare, a howl of grief turned into color. Perla, a Chilean artist who lost her brother in the 2019 protests, painted it during a blackout, using scavenged pigments mixed with tears. In Salt in the Wound, a zine collecting dispatches from artists in crisis, visual art like Perla’s holds beauty and pain in the same breath. This is the story of how artists paint through grief, transforming loss into something that refuses to be forgotten.
By Shohel Rana7 months ago in Poets
Poetry as a Weapon
Words That Fight Back Last night, I heard a poem that cracked me open. It was read at a small rally in Lisbon, scrawled on a napkin by a poet named Yulu Ewis, a contributor to Salt in the Wound. Her voice trembled over the megaphone, reciting lines about a river choked with ash, a mother’s hands searching rubble. The crowd was silent, some weeping, others clenching fists. Her words weren’t just art—they were a weapon, sharp and unyielding, cutting through the numbness of a world that too often looks away. In Salt in the Wound, a zine collecting raw dispatches from crisis zones, protest poetry like Yulu’s is a battle cry, humanizing suffering and defying oppression. This is the story of how poets wield words to fight back.
By Shohel Rana7 months ago in Poets
The Zine Rebellion
Why DIY Art Still Matters I found my first zine in the summer of 2020, tucked under a pile of flyers at a protest in Brooklyn. It was a stapled stack of photocopied pages, rough-edged and smudged, screaming with hand-drawn skulls and furious poetry about police brutality. It wasn’t polished or pretty, but it hit like a fist. That zine—called No Quiet Surrender—felt alive, a piece of someone’s soul pressed into my hands. In a world drowned by algorithms and corporate noise, zines like Salt in the Wound are making a comeback, raw and unfiltered, giving voice to those the mainstream ignores. They’re not just art—they’re acts of rebellion, proof that DIY culture still burns bright.
By Shohel Rana7 months ago in Poets
Art in the Rubble
Creating Amidst Collapse In a blackout in Gaza City, Amina sits cross-legged on the floor, her phone’s dying flashlight casting a frail glow. She scribbles a poem on a torn napkin, her pen shaking as drones hum overhead. The words are jagged, about olive trees and blood-soaked earth, but they’re hers—proof she’s still here. Across the world, in a shelled-out building in Kharkiv, Dmytro paints a mural with scavenged house paint, a defiant sunflower blooming across cracked concrete. In Port-au-Prince, Jean records a song on a cracked phone, his voice raw, weaving Creole proverbs into a melody of rage and hope. These aren’t polished works destined for galleries or Spotify. They’re acts of survival, art born in the rubble of crisis zones, where creation is as vital as breath.
By Shohel Rana7 months ago in Writers
The Song That Won’t Die
How Bella Ciao Became a Global Cry for Freedom The air was thick with tension, the kind that hums before a storm. I stood in a crowd in Santiago last week, shoulder to shoulder with strangers, as a lone guitarist struck the opening chords of Bella Ciao. The melody cut through the chaos—tear gas lingering, banners waving, voices hoarse from chanting. Within seconds, the crowd joined in, their voices raw but resolute, singing in Spanish, Italian, or just humming the tune. It wasn’t just a song; it was a pulse, a shared heartbeat of defiance. How does a melody born in the rice fields of 19th-century Italy end up here, in Chile, in 2025, or in the streets of Gaza, Tehran, or Rojava? Bella Ciao is no ordinary song. It’s a living, breathing force, a global anthem of resistance that refuses to fade.
By Shohel Rana7 months ago in Writers
AI’s New Tricks Are Stirring the West
The Curiosity Wave Is Real Artificial intelligence isn’t just a trend—it’s a full-blown cultural shift. Especially in the United States and the United Kingdom, people are increasingly drawn to the question: What can AI do next?
By Shohel Rana7 months ago in Futurism
