By Ram Govardhan
Of all the disasters, Sara knew, coming across one’s ex is the most fatal one.
Tag: Short Story
By Karun Menon
Standing tall with him in her left arm and the black umbrella in her right, she took a breath. And they ascended slowly…one step after another.
By Ramlal Agarwal
In her short stories, she steers clear of cultural confrontation. She deals with characters and situations where there is no confrontation, though she points out the cultural differences without a comment. Jhumpa Lahiri’s insights adds to our understanding of globalization.
By Maliha Iqbal
She went out swift as the wind, her lilac saree carelessly rippling behind as she walked ahead.
By Prabhakar Singh
Professor Chap Lucie, from the Hogward University, entered her classroom holding a coffee mug in her right hand at 10:30 AM sharp. Her personalized coffee mug had the title of her most-cited articled printed on it.
By Sharif Atiquzzaman
As he walked to the hotel, Arif thought of the carved map of a divided country on Ator Ali’s cracked, worn-out skin.
By Madhu S Nair
After a few months, Mohan Gopal returned to America as a married man. This time he arrived in a different city.
By Sharif Atiquzzaman
After the polls, you can’t catch hold of their shadow. Now they promise the Earth. They are political fraud.
By Anuradha Mazumder
His head began to swim, his eyes dimmed… suddenly, the train, the people, and the world around him started receding from him as the lonely coach hurtled through the dark entrails of the city at a breakneck speed.
By Kamalini Natesan
What I have is Daddy’s Hat, and Mommy’s Pain. There’s a hole inside me, I think. I think it is what I am, a girl with a hole inside her.
By Ram Govardhan
And Sara feels that matrimony, as an institution, would always smack of male chauvinism as long as there’s no female Pope. Her greatest dream is to tie the knot when the groom is in jumpers, shorts or long johns on the wedding day, officiated by a gay priest, sans the churchly rituals that suck.
By Sabreen Ahmed
As her memories faded in the darkness of her mind, she looked towards her future goal of nourishing her orphanage and finding the traces of Imran in some human space or form. Continued strife with life seemed no longer a chaos.
By Muddasir Ramzan
The grief and regret that they couldn’t be there when Babb and Moji needed them the most would haunt Ammi, Maam Jan, Chota Maam, Pyari, and Choti Masi forever.
By Madhu S. Nair
Damodaran nodded positive but he didn’t mean it. He was in a hurry to escape from the suffocation of blind love.
By Sunil Sharma
Glittering. Luminous. Blue alternating with tiny white. Sparkling dots tucked away in the vault above. Serene sky. A soothing moon beaming down.
By Tanvi Saraf
The ghost of my missing maid is floating above me, bobbing up and down against the bathroom ceiling, side by side with my deceased sense of worth. She bolted right before I was due to deliver my second-born.
By Vivek Nath Mishra
It was foolish to pamper this fear anymore. She agreed to what her husband had said. It took her time but it was worth it as finally a day came when she gave her consent to him to plant lotus.
By Anindita Das
The departmental stores in Kolkata appeared ‘tiny and crowded’ in comparison to Walmart or Sam’s. All of a sudden the crowd that he had grown up around seemed ‘intimidating’.
By Nishi Pulugurtha
Everyone was talking of the jhor. As I was eating rice, saag and fish, Dida told us about the jhor. She said it had a name, Amphan.
