A short story Titiksha knocked on the door. The lady opened the door. The lady was wearing a sleeveless knee-length dress; it was an indigo blue. Her hair was tinted with blond highlights. She looked old. I had never seen her so close up. We shared a lift sometimes, but I never looked at her. Our lift was so small; I tended to shrink into … Continue reading this is mine
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 had jumped into a rickshaw with my luggage, pretending I hadn’t seen her. I may have stopped to offer her a lift, but my rickshaw was nudged ahead by two bullies of BEST buses. I … Continue reading nothing happened
“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 to hold her breath, until Bijji loosened her hold on her. Bijji pounced on Karan next, who pounced right back. But what did he know? He was only a stupid, seven year old boy, Rhea … Continue reading Bijji comes from US of A
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 my own favourites. These chairs, at the City Palace Museum, Udaipur, however don’t seem very comfortable. Fotoos by Teja, and here’s the story. Rewa was alone at home today, for the first time in her … Continue reading the reclining chair
“The parrots used to come here once”, she said. I can imagine that. Droves of parrot resting in the trees, and suddenly flying out into the sky, as if the tree had flung out hundreds of leaves. The air must have been full of song, because those were the days of color, of joy, of music. Music is lost now. In its name, are helpless … Continue reading the hour of the kites
