She woke up feeling lost and her head hurt from previous night. It was just as much she could take. The pangs of pain on her bottom felt relatively easier to handle than the sharp stings she felt on the nape of her neck. He had been rough with her before but last night was …
He gave her chills, scared the life out of her. He swerved and steered and controlled her being like no other. He tormented her, left bruises and made her heart wrench in pain. He would make her do things she didn’t even know existed. He could trace a single bead of sweat on her neck …
She looked out of the window. The Sun had not set as yet but the evening had already splashed the skies with a sharp violet tinge mixed with a fiery orange hue. The spring brought with it a strange breeze. The nights which were much cooler than the days mixed her thoughts into a heady …
I walked a fair distance today, raking up leaves strewn all over yesteryears. The silent Sun bore my witness as I crossed the railway tracks one more time to search for the lanky vagabond who I had last met there nearly two decades ago. I knew I will still find him there because there was …
‘The Karwachauth’ is 100% fiction for a change and is not even remotely connected to any part of me. This comes of as a surprise to people specially when I tell them that this festival is not celebrated in my family at all. However, the backdrop of the festival has an instrumental role to play in the plot of this story. Recommended…
Abstract, fiction and written in first person like most of my other works, The Time Traveler goes where none of my stories have gone before.
You must have heard of the concept of a black comedy or a satire. This one is more like a black romantic category. Don’t even ask me where and how I thought of the basic plot.
This was done after a considerable gap and I personally thought I was a little rusty to experiment with noir genre again after a long gap. Edgy, dark and slightly nightmarish…
Yup, it happened for real, one rainy day.
Short, real short. A linear thoughts described as briefly as possible. I guess being verbose than this would have diluted the emotion. Let me know if you agree.
More like a snippet than a story. Leaves scope for your imagination and buildup to the plot.
Based on real life incident. People who find descriptions of gore distasteful are requested to skip this and advised to recite nursery rhymes for a while… I on the other hand shall keep dishing out tales like this because as I see it, real life often needs to be scraped off a shoe.”
This story comes to life following an incident in personal life. It is fiction for most part of it except for an underlying common theme. People who know me probably know that as well..For others, it still holds as a good romantic read.
Well, this is no documented story in history, just a figment of my imagination. The story goes that prince Siddhartha left his wife and son and denounced the world and its pleasures. I just thought of narrating it from the wive’s perspective. I guess this story begins where the history ends..One of my recommended reads.
I used to see a lunatic on road at times on my way to school. In the rickshaw I used to take, I would find children my age suddenly hushed to silence on seeing him. Though, this was decades ago, it somehow got transcended into a small piece of fiction. Needless to say, the Neem tree and the incident around it is a figment of my imagination.
I remember a night before the festival of Holi, many many years ago, my dad was particularly late in returning from work and my mom waited for him often looking out of the window or going to the door. Those were days when even landlines were not common and mobiles hadn’t really come into existence. The incident just found form in this story…
Short, sweet, simple, candy floss. Fun read.
“The first cigarette is like first love. Both use the lips to explore, leave a heart burn and very rarely get to a conclusion” I looked at the lit end of the cigarette for a brief moment before taking another drag. The ruby burnt bright and the paper ebbed in. The stashed smoke escaped in …
‘The Ivory Dreams’ is purely fiction and one of my first attempts at the noir genre. The incident is linear like my other works and the details are worked to suit the plot. A man lusts for a co-passenger on a train only to discover….read on, if you care.
I regard this as my best work of fiction till date. Recommended for its soulful plain narrative. Over the years, people and friends who have read it have accused me of making them cry. Read on at your own risk…:)
Rejected was the first story I experimented with perspectives. How a single situation is seen by two parties on either side differently despite them being tied by a common bond which remains undiscovered.
‘The Yellow Envelope’ is about a choice. There are certain things which can’t be sold, not because there aren’t any takers but because you can’t find anyone eligible to keep the legacy intact. Structured over a romantic theme and a tinge of pain again, this one remains my favorite.
‘The other side of the ocean’ is a simple narrative and one of my earlier works. The situation is one which is not hard to find. Nostalgic, romantic and finishing with a tinge of pain, it remains one easy ready.
‘And It Rained’ is more like a monologue written for my own self than anyone else. This syncs up another of my works – a poem titled ‘The Draught’ available under the section ‘The Realms of Love & Trance’
Life as it happens between days and morning routines. All of us put a mask on when stepping out and become a different person when alone. This story discovers lost bits between morning chores, dreams and life in general.
An abstract monologue, hazy and short.
Mamma is the closest any of my stories could get to my personal life. Based on the series of events around my grand mother’s death, this is one recommended read.