Short Stories
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The tabla beats – two bass heavy sounds followed by a sharp tap – welcome us, the audience, into the theatre. We take our seats. The tabla makes it impossible for us to fidget or make small talk with each other. The empty stage with a single spotlight and the dhing-dhing-tap ensures we’re in a…
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The Christmas tree in front of them looked like a disaster. There were pine needles at its bottom, on the sofa and coffee table, and Shilpa spied some near the front door as well. It was a tiny little tree, no more than two feet, and yet it had shed so many needles. Clean up…
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As you sleep, curled into your side, a blanket raised right up to your shoulder, something moves in the darkness. You don’t sense anything in the beginning, asleep as you are. Confident that a closed door will protect you from events that may mean you harm.
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I should stop, I tell myself. I scroll through AG’s stories. I pause at a story where they are posing with a girl in a bikini. Something ugly rises inside me. But I don’t stop. God I’m being pathetic. I should stop, I tell myself again.
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I love my brother. Don’t get me wrong. I do love him. And he’s my older brother so the regard and love I have for him aren’t something I can explain. But he’s a stubborn bull and if he locks his feet in, no matter how much I drag, he won’t budge. He. Will. Not.…
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“There she is, my entertainment provider,” said Swarup to his granddaughter. He didn’t remember anymore that she was his granddaughter but he remembered, vaguely, that when she came to his room, she brought gifts along.
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I’m sitting in the drawing room. I can hear the whirring of the fan. The sound of someone racing their motorcycle on the road twenty floors below wafts in through the open balcony door. It’s neither hot nor cold, dry or humid. It’s a perfect Bombay afternoon. It’s a slow work day. It’s my perfect…
tales of Suchita 