There once lived a rude man in a lovely cottage just outside of town. His name was Mr. Red. And he was very rude indeed. Early in the morning, when the helpful bird outside his window chirped, on the branch of a maple tree, Mr. Red slid open the glass and shouted, “That’s enough noise. Shoo!” The bird ruffled his beautiful blue feathers and flew to his flock. He said, “That man, Mr. Red, is so rude indeed.” Later in…
the news came early morning. he was coughing again. a dagger plunged sharply just below her heart. maloti jolted with the pain, a clenched breath pummelled through her lungs. monai, her eldest son, was coughing again. no, it was not just a cold. he was coughing blood. panic caught at her throat and squeezed, she sat up bolt upright. she could feel a wail starting at the base of her stomach. maloti stood up without thinking and rolled the thin…
She was sitting at her table by the window. Her books spread out in front. A pen in her hand for making notes. She’s working hard, trying to concentrate, but her mind just wouldn’t let her. She was back in her room after ten days. Ten days that she hadn’t realised would be life-changing, only she wanted to be in denial. ~~~ A month back, everything was going as per her plan. Vidya was preparing for her management entrance examination,…
“you can’t go back…” whispered the summer wind brushing against my temple. “what? what did you say?” it was nine in the morning, my mind wasn’t fully alert yet. “you can’t go back home,” a ring of quiet assertion in the palmate leaf of the plant on my desk. “it didn’t matter then… it matters now,” the white tea cup said. the cup was almost empty. i longed for a sip of tea. how many years was it now that…
“if you don’t want a child, just use nirodh!” said the ten year old. “nirodh!” there was awe and bursting curiosity in the nine year old’s voice as she struggled to keep her voice down, “what do you do with it not to have the baby?!” “shhhh! shh! mgpgmmph!” the other nine year old warned, index finger on his lips, he had just stuffed a whole nolen gurer kancha golla, that delightful sweet made of tender cottage cheese and new…
She had hoped to take the bus to the school, but as usual, had allowed herself to get distracted by one last hallway discussion which truth be told could easily have been deferred. If one were to dig deeper, the true reason for the delay was the subconscious opposition to walking in the cold. For it was cold that morning. She was still distractedly typing on her phone, the elevator deciding to stop at every other floor, when she realized…