Tag Archives: Short Story

Ayesha’s Face

June 29, 2015

26 Comments

Image credit: Eli DeFaria

(The story begins here) I wouldn’t meet Ayesha for many days after that. Shipra had taken ill on our way home from Nashik. It began with convulsions in her stomach and soon she was vomiting fitfully as the taxi entered the outskirts of Bombay. We stopped the car and let her step out in fresh […]

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The Spanish Witch (Sandhurst Road)

May 11, 2015

22 Comments

Image credit: Julia Caesar

(The story begins here)  As the taxi wound its way back through unfamiliar streets, a steady downpour beat on the roof and slid past the windows. A wiper kept drawing a dull semicircle on the windshield. The driver kept his head cocked to the left, focusing on the road with the good eye, coughing from […]

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The Pallbearer (Sandhurst Road)

April 12, 2015

30 Comments

sndhrst-2-img

(The story begins here.) The little rendezvous over dinner was skidding to an abrupt end. She was eating a tad hastily but with a grace that seemed natural to her. I had to perk up my act, trying hard not to chomp. Or gulp. “The trick to beat the junk pedalled on streets is to […]

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Sandhurst Road

March 23, 2015

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Sandhurst Road

As my decade long stay in this city draws to a close, a prescient thought sets in like an invisible mizzle. It will not leave me, this feeling, that I may never set foot on this turf again, but I am not sure what it means to me. Will I miss the mossy whiff of […]

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The Bungalow by the Tracks

December 29, 2014

38 Comments

Image credit: Joshua Earle

Five years after she fled to Delhi in an unreserved coach of Lucknow Mail the evening of her marriage, Miranda returned to the town where she had grown to be a woman from a blob in a womb. She found an accommodation in the neighbourhood of the house that used to be home. Mrs Mukherjee […]

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The Crusted Slice

October 3, 2014

44 Comments

Lost

Always on Dussehra, my sister who is a rung up in the family ladder would remember the older one who lived with us briefly. She was not too old when she fell ill on a winter night that thundered and wept with rain. By the morning she was gone, a few days short of my […]

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End of Dusk

October 27, 2013

50 Comments

e-o-dusk

The evening is still, the birds silent, the wind dead like a tramp, flopped on a footpath. The sky is dressed in dust and dusk. His lungs cannot pull in half the air they used to soak till the last summer. The pain is boring holes through his shins. It has been welling up for […]

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A Far Cry from Mr Darcy

May 24, 2013

69 Comments

Image Credit: 'Pride and Prejudice'

The concluding part of ‘Never Forget a Ruby‘ As I stood stiff under a jet stream of water, the set of four faces kept throbbing in my head, they all saying something to my eyes squeezed shut. Hemant, Robin, Sonia, Ruby and a stab in my heart. I lathered myself like a soiled bedspread and […]

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A Polar Bear Remembers

May 19, 2013

54 Comments

Image source: wikimedia

‘There is nothing new under the sun. It has all been done before.’ ~ A Study in Scarlet Read the preceding part ‘The Man from Baker Street‘ here. The story begins here in ‘Never Forget a Ruby‘ ‘Yes, I am mad about books. And for a bookworm like me, it is sacrilege not to have […]

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The Man from Baker Street

May 17, 2013

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man-baker-street

(The story begins in ‘Never Forget a Ruby’ Read it here. ) I was about to begin hating ‘dodger blue’ cars for years to come but I didn’t know it then. It was morning still and we were swarming the porches of Tagore Block. The air was crisp, tinged with smoke from the bonfires of […]

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Never Forget a Ruby

May 11, 2013

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Never Forget a Ruby

She was not a friend, nor a classmate, nor a social sibling –the veil under which some people fraternised in the college. We were graduating in the same year and we both had English Literature and she was in the other section further down the hallway. Although the timings for the classes were the same […]

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Sam Was Sad

May 1, 2013

63 Comments

Gianlorenzo Bernini

It was a sultry summer morning when I first met Sam twenty five years ago. My roommate was groveling for an omelet, sprawled in his bed. He had been missing his turn at cooking breakfast for the fourth day in a row. ‘I swear I’ll take over tomorrow.’ I hate the promise of tomorrows. Ask […]

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