Short story selected for the 2013 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology They are sitting at Carlo’s Pizzeria downtown, sharing a thin-crust Margherita pizza and a pitcher of beer between the four of them. Having downed a few vodka-orange back…
Short story selected for the 2013 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology He had very soft hands; the palms of which had cupped her nose once, and had then ran through the knots in her hair a few seconds later,…
Short story selected for the 2013 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology He woke to the hum of the three tonne truck outside his home, unloading or loading bricks or wood or whatever the landlord was crazy enough to get…
Short story selected for the 2013 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology The morning was not so sunny that day unlike the three previous days. Rain started the last night. Thunders pealed. Stormy wind bent the heads of the coconut…
Short story selected for the 2013 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology A three storied, old-fashioned building was ours in a snaky lane of North Calcutta. My father came along with his widowed mother to find refuge in this house,…
Short story selected for the 2013 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology Victor’s mother’s words hummed in his ears like the air pressure in the cochlear duct while landing. It hurt deep in an unbearably painful but strangely, pleasant way.…
Short story selected for the 2013 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology “Father, should I help you in turning you over to your left side?” enquired the young woman. “You’ll be more comfortable that way. At least for sometime. You’ve…
Short story selected for the 2013 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology The first faint streaks of dawn had just burst through the clouds when Parul got up, tucked the end of her pallu in at her waist, twisted her…
Short story selected for the 2013 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology Of the four men standing around Maulana Abu al-Sa’id’s body, one resembled a statue. He heard not a word of what the other three were talking among themselves.…
Don’t wear a dupatta today Don’t today Wear a dupatta Walk in broad day light stark naked sunlight They will undress you Undress you with their eyes They will Misbehave Behave yourself Clock moves around the same numbers…
The corpses of those Who die from drowning Stink like hell. The corpses Of cancer-patients Ooze hazardous wastes. Burning dead bodies Comes easily enough To the professional cremator For whom sorting out Fragments of bones from ashes Is easier…