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Bultu and Socket

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Maya squeezed her way through the sweaty passengers, deftly moving to the back of the bus on Route L14B. The busy streets were winding down as it hid passers by in a thin blanket of charcoal smoke wafting up slowly from the roadside vendors selling forbidden delicacies ranging from roasted corn brushed with lime, to deep fried aloo chops and begunis.

The Red Hibiscus

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Colonel D’Cruz glanced at the large blue dial of his HMT wrist watch and bellowed impatiently, “ I don’t want anybody to be late. Mishka, get that dal paste off your face,and why does your mom look like she has jaundice with crushed orange peel smeared all over her arms ?” A little silence, then Mishka purred, “ I am not going, I have a bad headache”.

Baloo's Full Toss

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Baloo the peasant’s son had a powerful arm. He trudged off to the fields every morning to till the earth while it was still soft and smelt fresh. The morning fog danced in the pre dawn glare of firewoods crackling merrily at the sooty kettle. Even the rooster had its head tucked in its warm breast, while a few cows lashed its tails at the large mosquitoes circling its rump like Somali pirates.

Do All Relationships Come With A Past

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Prerna and Prem were childhood buddies. They went to the same school,studied in same class,resided in the same locality as neighbours and grew up together. They went to school together,had lunch together,played together and studied together. Both found solace in each other’s company. Everyone who knew them realised that they were meant for each other.

Lunch At Esplanade

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Dum Dum airport, as the locals know it, gateway to Kolkata, The City of Joy. The connecting Airbus from Bangkok steadied itself for landing, rocking gently in the dark sky like an intoxicated butterfly. My legs were weary, it was the last leg of a long journey from SFO bringing me home to a city which taught me how to dream.

Undelivered Letters, Silent Gaze and the Voluptuous Moon

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Sometimes I close my eyes just to think about that damsel who changed the meaning of my life. Sometimes I look at her mutely from my balcony, sometimes I walk behind following her divine shadow…

Saptapadi

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Written by Nagavalli S Kiran (my husband) which was also published on Sulekha in the year 2000.

The priest appointed by my friend was muttering something in Sanskrit. Less out of piety than out of habit. His hands were doing the complicated mudras of the sankalpa -- the sacred proffering of intent to the Gods before starting anything auspicious. In the waters of this one well lay the jnana of the whole world. All covered up so no one could get so much as a peek, lay the Light, contrasting with the darkness I sat in. The dawn rays were yet to travel over horizon and the December cold pierced my marrow.

Walking In The Rain

Unpublished
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Suddenly the sun kissed sky bids goodbye. The beautiful darkness settles down. The world around me transforms into a good-looking bride. The melancholy in my balcony fades down. The droplets are dancing in my terrace, the earth exuding fragrance. There’s a unique sonata, there’s a divine feeling of joy.

The Play

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I saw him for the first time. His eyes, reflection of his truth; filled with emotions yet completely alive. I was touched by his innocence and his extreme presence. I kept looking at his fingers; nails that were uncut, filthy and full of dirt. I could sense how he was completely engrossed in counting the coins in his palms.

The Daughter Dilemma

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My mother, the oldest of four, strongly believes that she is the most fair of mothers when it comes to her children. In fact, my father, one of five, too has the same opinion. And for the most part, they are absolutely right. None of us has ever received more than the other. Growing up, there was always three of everything: shoes, clothes, games, books.

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