Rap on the door. The seven year old no longer had to be told what to do – she was now well-trained. She raced up to the terrace, carrying Zoya. The terrace was uncommon – it had an enormous crater in the middle, caused by an object thrown from hovering helicopters. A story by our guest writer Swaroopa Lahiri. It happened during monsoon because the very next day, she had released paper boats in the hollow rain pool and watched…
Haven’t written in a while. This feels like a homecoming, but am struggling where to start. Ironical since the post title is about not caring where things end. I have had a miserable few weeks, at one point I even burst into inconsolable tears. Then, fortuitously the grey clouds parted. I found myself on a boat, cruising down the South Lake Union. The sun was shining bright (a bit too bright for my eyes), but there was a gentle cool…
i dreamt of my father and mother today. he was looking handsome. she had that calm air about her which had always been hers, as though she had made it herself. with every gaze of her sharp brown eyes, every raising and lowering of her eyelids, the slow purposeful turn of her head, the stillness she held in every line and curve. she could turn the calm into what she willed in an instant. it always impacted you with such…