the other afternoon, surfing channels looking for something to watch, i came upon a scene in bade bhaiyya ki dulhania that made me pause and watch. i honestly don’t remember what the scene was, but there was a silent intensity mixed with a beguiling amiability in the hero’s eyes, the heroine looked fey and was actually so, there was a mother on the upper floor of the house whose eyes were as eloquent as her son’s… the hero. there were…
the heavy teakwood doors burst open. binota and gopaler ma looked up startled, a few bodis fell off the muslin cloth onto the mosaic floor and broke and scattered. she came running out, her pale pink jamdani saree billowing, the pallu flying behind her. she held the fine gauzy gold tinted cotton bunched up in her fists on either side, lifting her saree at least half a foot off the ground, her ankles clearly visible, almost her shin, as she…
he sat there looking lost on the old park bench. when i saw the jaw line, i knew there was only one thing i could do. i sat down. “what’s up?” i asked when i found my voice. he looked so disoriented. he turned and there were his eyes. i remembered chocolate, my habit of quietly eating a little chocolate every night, chocolate all by myself. my throat went dry again. “huh!” oh, so he had a voice. how do…
“this is funny, isn’t it,” he said staring at her, his voice low, almost inaudible. she looked at him trying not to avert her gaze. “what’s funny?” she had to ask the question. the silence had to be contained, or else… she frowned. or else what, why was she so disconcerted? so… afraid? was she afraid? “all the while… all the things we said. you said. i…” he paused and took a sip from his glass. it was whisky, she…
by the time they drove up to the plantation it was almost seven in the evening and the sun had set. the journey had been long and sunita was very tired, beside feeling a little cut off from it all, bereft. everybody had spoken a lot at the airport, her mother was the only one who hadn’t come to see them off. she was distraught, and had been breaking into bouts of weeping since the previous evening. this was the…
it was her birthday and he had bought her nothing. nikhil kadan swore under his breath. then realising he was alone, he swore again, this time the four letter word was clearly audible, it carried all his ire, it practically struck and reverberated against the square glass ashtray lying on the desk. he scrunched his brow thereafter and pursed his lips. because the problem remained. he hadn’t bought her anything and it was quite late in the evening, there was…
INDEX khushi sat in the back holding anjali in her arms as she lay on the seat and asr drove fast toward shantivan. when di had passed out and asr had run to catch her, without thinking much or wasting time, khushi had tried every door on the floor to find a bathroom, get water and do what she had seen done in many movies to revive an unconscious person. she had splashed cold water on anjali’s face till…
INDEX asr stroked khushi’s cheek distractedly as she lay among the crisp white sheets of the sprawling bed in the hotel room. they were both winded by all that had happened that day. he’d been sitting with her on his lap, holding her, gently nuzzling, letting a sense of calm return for they both needed it badly. without realising, they’d moved and settled into the comfort of the fluffy pillows, the plush mattress and the layers of fine egyptian…
INDEX khushi sat head bent before devi maiyya. something inside her trembled even now. why was he so angry with her? and what was it she had felt as he had hauled her to him, his arms unyielding around her even as he shouted and berated her? khushi closed her eyes remembering the heat of his breath on her face, the fury emanating. she had felt bludgeoned by it, almost physically hit. perhaps when she decided to go to…
INDEX paper scrunched up, crumpled into little balls, was strewn all across the carpeted gray office floor. the clock showed 12 midnight. silence all around. not a soul in the office. other than the man sitting there with his elbows on the desk, holding his head in his hands. arnav singh raizada was feeling restless. a terrible restlessness that wouldn’t let him be. he couldn’t think clearly, couldn’t concentrate, couldn’t turn it off and get on with what needed…