Short Story

One whiff and he knew the ‘pedes’ hadn’t seen the light of day. Neither had their leather companions. Jimmy cradled the kickers on his toweled lap and proceeded to transform them to a podiatrist’s dream

Sometime around this month last year, my bestfriend and I were in Singapore for our trip together. We had taken the cable car just spontaneously and dropped down at an location unknown to us . It was around 9:30 at night and were walking down an empty road and we were terrified

“Fret not where the road will take you. Instead, concentrate on the first step. That’s the hardest part and that’s what you are responsible for. Once you take that step let everything do what it naturally does and the rest will follow. Do not go with the flow. Be the flow.”

In the year 1979 end-1980 beginning, our family shifted from Hingrijan Tea Estate near Moran to Burrapahar Tea Estate situated in the present world heritage site of Kaziranga National Park

A tall, dark gentleman in a tweed coat and matching hat got down from the swanky, black car. He looked right and then left then walked briskly into the building across the street.

Seven years of family life had taught Sofiqul Saikia that purchasing groceries quarterly in a month was effectively soft on the pocket. He heaved the ‘bozar kora Muna’ (shopping bag) from the backseat of the Fiat Padmini and picked the…

Perspiration beaded his brow and wet the saffron cloth tied around his head. Dust billowed from the ground where the political rally had been conducted under the hot sun, as the people walked away towards their waiting buses. His throat was dry from all the shouting and cheering..

Just two more spoons of the whites and then the entire orange yolk would be a warm liquid melting and coating the insides of her mouth before leaving a glorious flavor on her tongue and slipping down the gullet. The problem with a fried egg was that the moment one went down, the tongue craved for another like an alcoholic begging for that one last drink.

Ankit Chowdhury walked out of the classroom in long, loping strides, his maroon tie flapping and his shirt collar wilted. To be eleven was not the happiest stage in a boy’s life. There was a tiny, treacherous moustache creeping out above his upper lip, among other things.

Then she felt herself being swept towards the wide open glass doors of the mall, pushed and jostled towards a place she did not know why she had come to, stirred by an impulse that she no longer cared to question. She held Baby close against her chest, ..