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

Fifty four

On the sewing table of tailor Raghunatha sat an old radio. It would play Kannada songs every morning as we waited at the bus stand. A tree at the other end of the road, full of May flowers in red. Shravya Akka watches as kids in white and blue uniform stroll barefooted to the school … More Fifty four

Fifty three

And came on in the nights, waking up to Julie’s barks at literally nothing on the yard. I’d stay still in the bed. It’s just rabbits, my mother would say and put us back to sleep. “I see someone pass by the window with a torch, imagine him climb up the roof to enter the … More Fifty three

Fifty two.

The mud road that ran along in darkness had a house below, whose hallroom was dimly lit with yellow bulb. A showcase full of books, on which was an old Samsung Tv which her mother would switch on to watch Kannada serials and movies. Down from the showcase she had picked Sidney Sheldon’s novels, which … More Fifty two.

Fifty one.

The bus honks as loud as it could, splitting my ears into an elderly man on the right side of the road, who pulls up and down his wheeler in blue, filled with tomatoes in red. Blue enough to take me back to the house with grids where my mother grew up with her brothers … More Fifty one.