Shubhadra had always found the summers strange. It seemed to change everyone around her. Her father left for his office before his usual fixed time, and her mother together with her grandmother finished their morning chores by 9 A.M. and that gave them all the more time to monitor her actions and point out all... Continue Reading →
The table lamps stood at an awkward angle to each other and together with the paraphernalia -- the books that he had read, the book he was currently reading, the book he had decided never to flip any more page of, the kindle, the empty pen stand, a Rubik's cube that had jammed for not... Continue Reading →
The last time he had let anyone touch him, Tanishq was 27 and had nothing on his body. And after the session of the passionate lovemaking was over, it had begun to rain outside, and it had continued to rain like that for some time. He was sitting on his bed, wiping the sweat off... Continue Reading →
Ramesh balanced himself on the scaffold - a temporary arrangement of sticks and ropes built around the naked and ugly building that he was to paint and transform into a beautiful house. The same building that he and a few others like him had worked on persistently and had erected in over a year. And... Continue Reading →
The room was reeking when he returned from the office, and the moment he unlatched the front door, the smell reached to him like a gust of wind. He retched, and though his ribs ached nothing came out from inside. He had never vomited in his life, not even when he was an unweaned child.... Continue Reading →
The girl. If one were to capture a panoramic view from where she stood and saw the birds go about in their daily chores, three-fourths of the captured image would be filled up with tall multi-storeyed buildings, full of people, working inside them. The remaining quarter would show something that now resembles a hill. Atop... Continue Reading →
This is as much of a piece on Hope and Courage as it is on what the title suggests. But, I believe, that the only way to overcome anything is by moving towards something, a place, a person, or even a void if one firmly believes in it.
I doubt if there can ever be a more avid, unbiased and an empathetic listener than a room’s window. A window is like a caboodle of stories; stories that were never told to anyone, stories that will remain untold, stories not shared amongst the family members, stories including the ones whispered to oneself in the... Continue Reading →