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It seemed like the sun and breeze had made a pact that morning because the weather was perfect. Not too hot and not too cold, just right. It reminded Chanderi of Goldilocks and she wondered if the story was too childish for Chiranjeev’s students. They were about 8 or 9 and if you believed him,
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Her room was in chaos. Her mother and mausi were sitting on the bed, talking over each other, the gold in their sarees shimmering in the tube light. Her younger cousins were in front of the mirror, checking each other’s eye liners and working hard to match the thickness of the lines on the eyelids.
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The haveli in front of Chanderi looked like it had sauntered off a Karan Johar set and planted itself such that it became the very definition of picturesque. It was tall and a gentle noncontroversial grey colour that only served to enhance the trellis above the double doors filled with bright green leaves. She could
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This one is dedicated to Harshita, Deepti, Poonam, Ellora, Leha and Purba. Thank you so much for your continued comments. Hope you like the conclusion.
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The story was told by dawn. The details had been fuzzy; Arthur had banished all memories and thoughts and fears to the deepest crevices of his brain, never to see the light of day again. But Janah had been relentless in his questions and had unearthed details even Arthur didn’t know he had.
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The continued delicacy with which Arthur Uriel Banes, formerly Arthur Chubs, formerly Mr. Chubs, was handled by the guards – plural, several more had joined the first one – left him reeling in shock and suspicion. Was he going to be executed? He barked a laugh at the thought. It would serve him right.
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It begins with a story. It is a story of a queen who is poisoned by her son because he’s tired of waiting for her to die. He has been waiting for seven years and finally decides to kill her so he can get control of the throne. It’s laughably easy and he’s not incompetent.
tales of Suchita 