Fiction
Thursday dawned on Tikwadi. For an outsider, no dawn in Tikwadi was any different. Villagers idled around just the way they always did. Men meandered, dilly-dallying with some unknown angst. Women hustled helter-skelter, pretending to be busy with some unknown chore. And kids spurted kooky from all directions, engulfed with
Fiction
Sam sat there in the corner looking at his fingernails. With a shrapnel in his hand, he was digging the dirt, which only he could see, out his fingernails. He looked up for a moment, and then looked around. Nothing much had changed. It had been so long since he
Fiction
Pia looked at the screen again and then looked down at her boarding pass. “AI-245”, she hummed, scrolling the screen flashing the flight numbers with her eyes. She was getting edgy unable to find the flight number on the list. She had long stopped relaxing in the passenger lounge. She
Fiction
Shri sits on a roadside bench looking at the traffic as it crawls by. It is the early morning, and so is way too crowded being the peak office commute time. He looks on as vehicles drag themselves along past him. Now and again, there is that one lunatic who
Fiction
Oas trotted to the window to peek outside, sliding aside the recently dusted curtains. He had dusted them just an hour back, but he still found some dust on his hands. He wiggled his hands and muttered few muffled swears towards the polluting city dwellers. He went to the wash
Fiction
“Remember that day when the Coffee House owner had thrown us out of his restaurant?” Jai stirred his coffee, and his memories. “Of course,” Jui guffawed. “Any owner would have done that. We were shooing away every customer that was walking in.” “There. That’s the laugh that was causing
Fiction
“Trust me, Sam.” “I trust you Pihu. But I can’t believe what you just said.” Sam was minutely observing the can Pihu had just handed him. “Ok. You don’t have to. What worse do you think can happen?” “We can die, of course. And are you really sold
Fiction
Today’s was a typical summer morning in Tikwadi. It was a calm & pleasant dawn that the midnight breeze & the sun-beaten land had hatched together. And like every typical morning — summer, winter or of the rainy season — Paka sat expressionless at the window seat of his bus. His
Fiction
He walked back into the room, alone. He fancied such days. He was on his personal day-off when everyone else was at work. He had just finished his last chore. He did not remember the last time he had lived an afternoon so empty — empty in a good sense it
writing
Recently I read an article by Nick Bilton that announced, or at least inclined to, the demise of the pen. “Fare Thee Well, My Pen”, the headline read. It claimed “the pen is murdered by finger”. It claimed today’s technology driven world rarely gives us an opportunity, or rather
life
We, the humans, are a race of thinkers. We are pampered while growing up, someone always making the decisions for us. Proving the point from time to time that the decisions they made for us were correct, were for our greater good. We are deterred from erring. We are convinced
life
Speechless .... Thats how today's incident caught me. Really felt am i missing something? Am i really enjoying my life? Corporate world has indeed made me dry. Juiceless. Deprived of whatever fun element I had in my life. Saw the wetted earth today and there loomed the childhood days