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Tag: Short Story
Protected: Sandhurst Road
There is no excerpt because this is a protected post.
The Bungalow by the Tracks
Five years after she fled to Delhi in an unreserved coach of Lucknow Mail on the eve of her proposed marriage, Miranda returned to the town where she had grown to be a woman from a blob in a womb.…
The Crusted Slice
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…
End of 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…
A Far Cry from Mr Darcy
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,…
A Polar Bear Remembers
'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…
The Man from 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…
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…
Sam Was Sad
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…
The Monk in the Rain
I’ve had a love-hate relationship with March, the onset of summers since early days. The weather in that small patch of year is just perfect, neither hot nor cold and rarely wet. The air is fragrant with panicles bursting on…
Painter of Omens
Painting by Pino Daeni When Avi said he saw Dr Sharma’s wife’s ghost, what he meant he had seen a ravishing young woman, fairy white and buxom, sitting stark naked on the terrace of the house that overlooked his backyard.…
One Grain Amongst the Storm 