Category Archives: my short stories
She called today. The last I saw her was at Borivali station ten days ago. She had been standing there, smiling bravely, flapping her hands in good cheer, but I … Continue reading →
“Rhea”, Bijji screamed. “My little dugduggi, how you have grown!” Rhea’s nose was jammed in Bijji’s armpit, which smelt a bit sour after twenty hours in the plane. Rhea tried … Continue reading →
In celebration of organizing my blog some more, and creating new pages for my short stories and films links, one more short story – the reclining chair – one of … Continue reading →
Inspired by these, this: “You haven’t done it, have you? I knew you wouldn’t do it. It’s always the same with you. You just say you’ll do it, and then … Continue reading →
When Basheer went home that evening, there was no home. His nephew, Faheem’s wife, Azra, had been arrested with 5 other women and 27 men from the basti, for scuffling … Continue reading →
I read this story at the Caferati meet yesterday. It’s a story that has been with me for a long time, and is one of my personal favourites. I’m still … Continue reading →
A friend sent me this sms today. ‘6 am rush hour. Getting stuff ready for school. I get a call on my cell. A polite male voice wishes me ‘salaam … Continue reading →
I read this story at the Caferati meet yesterday. Half way through, I found my hands trembling violently, and my eyes losing focus. It’s this fear of reading aloud to … Continue reading →
The British Council paid me 2000 rupees for this story, for the Faith issue of womenswriting.com. But never did find the link to the story while they had the rights … Continue reading →
Edited by Peter Griffin, Manisha Lakhe and Annie Zaidi With a foreword by Nilanjana S Roy Design and cover photograph by Hemant Suthar A Caferati Publication A wonderful effort, and … Continue reading →
And then there was your room. The building was like any of the ghastly buildings that children draw at school, a rectangle with square holes. But no child could have … Continue reading →
Just one of those days, hot, sticky. My hair constantly flies into my face, irritating me. My old, broken-sequinned shirt pokes me uncomfortably. We’ve waited all day for Dhanno’s new … Continue reading →
Nupur stepped off the sidewalk with a slight leap that took her springing across the road, careless about the traffic, unusual for her. She wondered if Aman could see her … Continue reading →
My nostrils quiver all the time with the dust from the quarries. Snot congeals every few minutes, and has to be dug out like the stone for buildings. Except that … Continue reading →
Imran said we could go to Tungareshwar. It was only around 40 kms away from Borivali. I looked at him skeptically. I had been living in Goregaon and then Kandivali … Continue reading →
