Book Excerpt: The Invisible Lines by Sudha Subramanian

An exclusive excerpt from The Invisible Lines by Sudha Subramanian (Vishwakarma Publications, 2026).

Music was never my comfort, but I discovered what a soothing tone could do to my heavy heart that day. I turned the big dial to a station, and a song crackled and filled our home at Nuggehalli, driving away all our worries to a corner.

Madhavan chuckled, “It’s like Akka is right here.”

And we hummed before embarking on the grand project of putting things in boxes and sacks.

Vessels, drums, steel boxes brimming with spices, clothes, pins, threads, papers, brushes, beds, sheets, and unfamiliar objects filled the space. They disappeared inside big gunny bags and stacked in the front room, one after the other. I stood in my tracks to take in the scene as the house that used to be home faded into a memory.

“Perhaps it was destined.” I felt my forehead. A male voice shook me out of the mood. Rajkumar’s voice spilled into our front room from the neighbour’s radio, pushing away the gloom and the weariness. The song was from that year’s famous film Babruvahana. As the melody rolled, swerved and curved into waves of shrill ragas, a matador pulled over in the front, and a man in an orange checked shirt jumped out. He came in humming the same song and stopped at the sacks.

“Everything ready? I will start loading,” he said as he examined the number of items. Madhavan and Vaishali came out of the room with their bags, and Amma hugged a wired basket full of pictures and idols from the pooja. And for the last time, we stepped out of the house that was once home. I never looked back as I blinked away tears and waved at Manju and Lakshmi. Would I meet them again? My curiosity about fate, destiny and the lines on my forehead burned, but it was not the time to find out. Madhavan moved a bag from the seat, and I slipped in next to him in the matador. The engine groaned to life, a sharp scent of diesel filled the air and the vehicle crawled away from the lanes of Nuggehalli, leaving behind all the stones, trees, and friends to an unknown town. We travelled along unfamiliar roads, with numbered trees, lakes, and fields moving farther from what we knew. Eventually, we saw a milestone that showed 35 km on the side of the road. I balled my hands into fist, unable to let go, when the matador swerved right and headed towards an unpaved road, changing our lives forever.

I must have dozed off at some point because when I opened my eyes, a swarm of dust clouded the road ahead, and we had stopped.

“Are we there?” I turned towards Amma.

“Almost.” Amma hugged the Gods tighter. “Appa went to get the keys to our new home.”

Appa signalled with his hand and climbed back in, and the matador roared to life again. In no time, it stopped in front of a building with an unkempt garden.

“There is a garden?” Amma’s face broke into a smile.

Appa was already at the door, pushing it open. Madhavan jumped as if his legs had gained springs, and Vaishali was looking at either side of the road. Autorickshaws, cycles and buses sped past the street. It was the complete opposite of our lazy, dull lane in Nuggehalli. Across the street was a shop with colourful toys and clothes and a smaller store with pink and red sweets. Amma stepped into the house with the Gods, and we followed her inside. It would be a while before we settled with our routines, but for now, the man in a checked shirt who drove us unloaded the gunny bags.

Amma handed me the broom and set me up to clean the floor. As I swept the two-bedroom house with a front yard, I discovered the mustiness, the dented edge on the floor, the peeling paint on the walls, the stubborn stopper of the window, the creaking door and the loose tap in the bath. It was not love at first sight, but soon, I would come to love so much of the house, and there would come a day when I would hate to let go. But on that day, I found every detail of the house annoying.

“Nuggehalli’s house had better taps,” I mumbled to Vaishali. “Look at the windows, none of them bolt well.” I yanked them shut. It was bad, no, it was worse than bad. It was not Nuggehalli, and I spent the night dreaming of returning to my friends and the familiar lanes of the village I wouldn’t visit for a long time.

Excerpted with permissions from the author and the publisher of The Invisible Lines by Sudha Subramanian (Vishwakarma Publications, 2026)

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About the Book

Shashi was married once, but an unexpected encounter with a sexagenarian paediatrician, reignites all her suppressed desires. If the invisible lines are leading her on a path to the ubiquitous “happily ever after”, Shashi has to stand up to the challenge, face the dark secret. She has to seize the moment, write her destiny because she will soon turn sixty and she cannot waste any more time.