I When Deborah died, she left her five precious possessions with me. Four cats and a boxful of prayer beads...
Short Stories
Piyali had long pictured herself to be draped in a blue benarasi silk on her wedding reception. Ever since she...
The faces, hair, and bodies in the humid metro train capsule are all a blur. But Arijit is here somewhere,...
Face tense, hands frantic, Mariam tried to cleanse her flesh and her soul by scrubbing at the warm stickiness contaminating...
In this short story, Smitha Murthy explores the fragile and tenuous relationship that develops between a lonely woman and the...
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com I have a habit of staring at horizontal lines. Railway tracks always fascinate me. These...
Photo by asim alnamat on Pexels.com The rain had been beating on the glass window for hours now, but that...
Photo by Andrea Piacquadio on Pexels.com I look at the TV screen in the hospital waiting room. The headlines spell...
Somewhere deep inside inland India, a group of women wearing bright orange, yellow and red coloured sarees gossiped under an...
‘Who can free a captive bird mourning in his cage?You must bring your own Freedom, O, Gardner.’ Ghulam Ahmad Mehjoor “I’ll...
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