Tale nostalgia Meeta was barely ten years old and Richa eight. They had never stayed away from their parents. Their father’s maternal cousin, Mangesh who retired as a Colonel, his wife Smriti, their teenage daughter Aditi and son Ashu were unusually fond of them. Mangesh and Smriti were strict and seemed authoritative to them. The…
Long ago, in a small village surrounded by hills and rivers, there lived a kind boy named Arun. He was about twelve years old, full of questions about the world. His father was a farmer, and his mother made sweets during festivals. They were poor but honest people. The people of Arun’s village were preparing…
The fragrance of tulsi leaves and freshly churned butter filled my home long before the first conch echoed across the streets. I had been awake since dawn, my hands busy grinding sandalwood paste, my heart silently counting down the hours. Tonight, my home would be Gokul, and my soul, a cradle for Kanha. The day…
Niva’s Return: A Homestay Dream in Hajo Niva stood by the window of her modest home in suburban Chicago, her eyes tracing the gray, steel skyline beyond. The air was cold and sterile, far from the warm misty mornings she remembered back in Assam. Her two boys, Roop and Rang, were playing quietly in the…
The first drop was almost a whisper, a tentative kiss on the parched earth. Then another and another till the grey dark clouds growled and started to pour ferociously. Mili gazed from her window, trailing her fingers along the misty lines covering the glass pane. Monsoon was one of her favourite seasons. As a child…
The Sun setting on the horizon left a trail of orange hue in the sky. The dusk, sprayed in pink, stood mutely before the day dissolved into the depths of the night. I stood by the window, a silent spectator witnessing the explosion of colours in the sky. It amazes me to realize how a…
I didn’t think I could tell this in my own words. It just boiled down to the surface from a vagabond thought to unspoken words. All this while, I thought I didn’t have much to say. How to express the vacuum of my mind? This was a stone-cold silence compared to the cool breeze of…
It is a wonder how words lack to perorate anything that matters; the fragrance of freshly brewed tea in the morning, the colour of the flower, the feeling of being in love. Words are like scattered half-eaten fruits on the ground dropped after satiating the hunger of the birds. Words cannot convey the natural feeling;…
In the depths of our hearts, we always know love is elusive. It is like sand slipping through the fingers; you can feel it but cannot hold it. Seema realized it too. She could feel the salty taste of longing in her dry mouth. It was the third night in a row when she woke…
How do I pretend that nothing has happened? I can’t! I tried not to think of the grave, dark thoughts, but they are my constant companion. Like a loyal pet quietly waiting in the background while I thought they were gone. I can’t describe them as lurking in the dark; they are docile. They were…