Prose

When he came to, he found himself in a small thatched hut. A man was squatting next to him. In the dim light that permeated the hut, he looked quite fearsome. Tall and wiry, he seemed old even though he was not bent. His wizened face looked like it had weathered many seasons. Covered in otjize*, his skin shimmered red gold as it caught the rays of the sun that was spilling in through the crags in the thatched roof. His hair was fashioned backwards into a horn shaped braid. He was bare bodied except for a loin cloth made of sheep skin, draped around his groin. His chest was adorned with beaded necklaces. They clinked as he shifted on his haunches. A huge lion’s fang hung from a black thread and rested midway to his navel. His face was painted in shades of red, black and ash. He smiled a toothless smile, as Mbambe came awake.

Bijju was not an imposing figure in stature but he had a fearsome reputation.  He was a cutthroat businessman and ran a tight business. His employees feared him. Rumour had it that he had grown up on the wrong side of the tracks in penury. What he could not have as a child, he had vowed to provide for his own progeny. Thus, he had embarked on a career in construction. He had started working odd jobs in the jungle and learnt on the job. His work had been good, his eagerness to please even more so.  Through sheer hard work he had built up a small yet respectable business, the same one that he now so shrewdly ran.

This story won me the coveted Gitesh Biva Memorial Award ——————————————————————— The sun peeked into her basement apartment from the window high up, near the ceiling. It was the only time that she got any sunlight, in the late afternoon. Sitting at her desk Anne opened an unread mail in …

Elections loomed. The party electoral campaigns were funded by contributions from wealthy industrialists. But this year the donations to the party fund had been insubstantial. Some regular contributors had yet to donate. The party treasurer was unhappy as he took the account statement to the Minister. The deficit needed to …

Rima would have been drenched, if not for his umbrella. “Ma’am, you’ll get soaked. Share my umbrella. It is big enough to accommodate two people,” he had offered, generously. Rima had gratefully accepted. Mumbai rains at their worst could be torrential. Today was one such evening. Rima’s forgetfulness had made …

CAST OF CHARACTERS Mr Lion – The King who is the aggrieved party Mr Rabbit – The prosecutor & investigating officer Mr Fox – the accused. Mrs Lion – Mr Lion’s wife. ACT I   Jungle court, outside the King’s Den The scene opens outside the Lion’s den, in the …

It was a balmy August evening. 12 year old Meera looked at the sky. God was playing hide and seek with the rain. You could literally smell the rain on the humid breeze. It tantalized you like a wily mistress but just when you expected it to fall; God whisked …

7 year old Sammy runs towards the main door, as fast as his puny legs will allow. Yes, he is short for his age. His friends at the park are always poking fun at his stature. In a flurry of motion, he reaches the door. He jumps up to try …

“Morning Luka. All set to go?” asked Neha stowing her gear and getting into the Taxi. She glanced at her watch. It read 10 am. “Good Morning Madam. Yes, we are all set. It’s a 4 hour drive to Alor so just sit back and relax. The route is quite …

  The weary wheels clattered on the cobbled street. The uneven paver blocks making them yo-yo in and out of gaps. The streets of Mumbai city are a veritable nightmare of potholes and uneven surfacing. But, the un-tarred by lanes are another story altogether. They are just narrow streets paved …