Category: Short Stories

Away and Today

It wasn’t yet dinnertime. They usually had dinner at around 9PM, late by her standards, early by his. Today, the noise from the construction work outside was reverberating in her mind. Itt was 6PM and weren’t those workers supposed to go home? She stepped out, mug of hot Rooiboos tea in her hand. The lake

Windows of Life

Infinite thoughts. Infinitesimal moments.And when they converge, the result is a perfect memory. To be framed and hung, no matter how crowded the walls of our minds, space enough for these mind paintings that smile over our lives. Away from India. Away from the familiar. Here is where I am. In this country called China.

Fables from Across: Moving

A green worm once became best friends with a little caterpillar. Together, they roamed the patch of grass that was as vast as their thoughts. It stretched all the way, and would take you two long strides to cover this patch. They would crawl along together in this infinity, talking about all the little things

Epitaphs

Walking around in the graveyard, little flowers peeked underneath the grass. Long blades of grass. Shifting in the autumnal breeze. The ground underneath didn’t bear thinking but it should. The flowers. The grass. The stones. The tombstones. Underneath lies rotting carcasses. Bones of death. Flesh decayed. Molten fluid surrendering to the fresh earth. I walked

Particular

I like mangoes. A lot. Cliches call it the king of fruits. I wonder if there is a queen of fruits. King or queen, I love its succulence. At its richest, it’s an unending source of pulpy goodness. Why would a manufacturer bottle such goodness? Kind of life how we do for all the good

The Bus

It’s always like this. I take two buses to office. I get down at this old part of Bangalore, called KR Market, or Krishnarajendra Market. My bus drops me outside Tipu Sultan’s decaying and crumbling fort. The Market is much like the Fort. It’s an abysmal representation of the ‘real’ India. I had once sent

A Wedding.

He looked at the clock ticking away. It was already 9PM. Dinner crumbled in his hands, a mash of potato palya and white rice forming a smooth ball in his smooth-as-silk hands. He was supposed to be there, not here. The wedding was to have taken place at 10:33PM. It was an odd hour. But

sTrUgGlE

I could hear the quiet calmness outside. Life seems to be like this. It goes in some rhythm. Lying here as I do, I cannot possibly tell you what the rhythm, but of the possibility of a rhythm I am certain. At some times, I can hear life outside. At other times, like this, I

An Encounter

Life came to me the other day, and said,”Hey! what’s the matter?” Perplexed, I asked in return, “What? Nothing is the matter.” So life asked me, “Why then are you walking with your back so bent and your head so bowed? Is it humility?” I laughed. “Humility? You would need to have something that you

Movement

It was a small night. Whispers of a moon passed her path. Above, the stars gentle as they were, seemed too far away. She didn’t know why she was walking. Or where. It seemed a world away from the lights of the city she had grown up in. Yet, here she was. The lanterns of