Sixty one

I remember it had rained, when my mother had had my hair combed sideways. It was my birthday and we were in a hotel room. A roof house down the building, at the side of which was a mango tree with green leaves. I had stood at the open window and watched the raindrops pour … More Sixty one

Sixty

She gaped down one more time at her first child whom she just gave birth to, in a room that was flushed with tubelights. The baby girl looked like her father, she thought, as she imagined her husband back home with an uneven garden outside, unaware of his new born. She held her baby close … More Sixty

Fifty nine

My mother came in through the doorway, stirring rice and curry on the plate. Outside, Acacia trees on top of the mound moved towards the wind in silhouette, against the grey sky that had been watching all the horror. On the plate, my mother continued mixing rice with curry as she sat on the sofa … More Fifty nine

Fifty eight

I sat with my mouth opened when I learned that his mother was a writer. ‘Are you serious?’ I finally asked him. ‘Yeah, she would write articles for newspaperas, both Kannada and English’ That’s amazing, I told him, to have a writer mother. He nods his head with another ‘yeah’ and rolls his eyes away … More Fifty eight

Fifty seven

The house with french windows is arrayed with pots of Peony and croton plants on the terrace top. I sit in the chair, gazing at how the May flowering tree has covered half of the house. Birds grew smaller as they flew over buildings afar. Cute boy comes out from the house next, looks either … More Fifty seven

Fifty six

The houses had oxide floors. A mat garnished with green and red rolled out at the open doorway. There was a baby in the house, crawling on the damp floor when the four of us played Ludo where the one who chose green would always win. While Nisha Akka painted her long nails with light … More Fifty six

Fifty five

A colleague comes in to the office stroking his hair; back of his shirt wet from the rainfall. And I pull up the curtains at my side, to the employees scurrying down with their umbrellas outside, mostly in black above their heads. The wipers on the windshield would just not stop as the cars moved … More Fifty five