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…
Short story selected for the 2013 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology Ramla and Onir were in the underground book market of Chandani Bazaar. Chandani Bazaar was called so because it bore an obvious resemblance to Dilli’s Chandani Chowk. But this…
What is it about a train journey in India I fail to understand, but every time I have been on a train, I’ve made friends. And the nature of the friendship has been such that it lasted for only as…
Short story selected for the 2013 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology He couldn’t see when he was born. But then that’s natural for pups. Their eyes open only about two weeks after their birth. And he was the tiniest.…
It is a morning of the latter half of Ashwin. Nikhilesh makes himself seated near the front-door of his house. No shirt on his body. But it has been covered with one end of his dhoti. In the morning a…
Short story selected for the 2013 New Asian Writing Short Story Anthology They bore his grandpa away from his cottage with the straw thatch, covered with lush green pumpkin- creepers and a big chalta-tree hovering over it. It being a…