Many years ago, when time had still not shriveled my mother, and I was still a shy little boy, I was struck by a bout of measles. The only memory of the suffering that has survived the quicksand of consciousness…
Tag: Short Story
The Ghosts of Jamun Trees
Before he died, Karamuva was the best tree climber of the village and the clusters surrounding it. He loved to clamber up anything green with stalks and leaves, planted to the earth and capable of withstanding human weight. From the…
Another Day like This
The aqua green sedan came to a halt at the corner of the road. A yellow ‘TAXI’ sign glowed dully on its roof. The street lights were still on although the night had fallen off the sky. The driver recovered…
Going Blind
O Scorpio-cat When you have gone My eyes will turn To lumps of stone ~Vikram Seth Not that he was cooking often, yet a man must have a morsel to live. Usually, he would just warm up a bun or…
The Evening That Killed (Part-II)
(Read the Part -I Here) Never trust the rains. Not when you have lost a ton of outdoor fun as a child to twisting torrents. Nor if your classmate’s skull was squished like a melon under a passing truck when…
The Evening That Killed (Part-I)
There hangs a small painting, silent and unnoticed by most, on a wall of my house. It is a lonely work of art, facing a quiet space in the narrow passage leading to the door. It was a present from…
The Giggling Gladiator (Part II)
(Read the 'Part I' here) If men are from Mars and women are from Venus, Nalini came right from Uranus. She was a female form hacked out of the purest permafrost. Everything about her was cold, sharp and angular, the…
The Giggling Gladiator (Part I)
Chhotu is the secret police. Komitet Gosudarstvennoi Bezopasnosti. Period. For the incredulous, yes it still exists. Of course, it has a different name. Dare me not to come clean. If I expose him here, he will be soon found floating…
One Grain Amongst the Storm 