Tag Archives: fiction

With the advent of the Corona Pandemic, life has been divided into the 'Before' and the 'After'. But, irrespective of any such 'Pauses', life goes on undeterred. Much like Time, that eternal nemesis of all life forms, it doesn’t stop. This is a universal fact. Because the events of our lives, are connected with each other, and those of others, by a different, more significant thread. That of overcoming the challenges life throws at us, individually and collectively. To fall and rise only to fall again, with the firm belief that we will rise again. That is the story of life, and of this book. Based on true events, these seven stories are a glimpse into the struggles of the living.

This story was written to a prompt on #ArtoonsInn –  #artalelegends5 The prompt – your MC has lived an uninteresting life. But, for the past month their life has changed dramatically. They have been invited to serve on the jury in a high profile trial involving two famous personalities. The …

  Gone… There is finality, absolutism in the word that cannot be denied. A child leaving the nest leaves a mother bereft. The feeling of nothingness that lingers is hard to overcome, isn’t it? It shadows you. What is left in the wake of the departure is a lifetime of …

Lama understood the youngster’s angst.  ‘Sepoy,’ he reasoned, ‘God knows that it’s not who fired the shot but who paid for the bullet that is to be blamed. This isn’t your burden. It’s the Brigadier General’s. Open fire!’ Lama’s words found their mark.

The day I turned 45, it hit me that my middle-age was characterized by middle-class mediocrity. Was this going to be the blueprint of my boring life? Or, did I still have time to try out new things and make memories to reflect upon in my old age?

When I look at her, I see not the imperfections heaped on her by society or the blemishes that rabid gossip has left. I only see the beauty bestowed by God. That is my aphrodisiac. I tack that vision to the fabric of my love and stitch it up tightly in my heart.

At the end of the Edwardian Era in England two things happened. One, the women’s suffrage movement gained momentum and two, Manfred Müller’s father, after two false starts, finally kicked the bucket bequeathing all his worldly possessions to his son.

This is the kind of book you should pick up as a late night read when you are sleep deprived. You pick it up thinking – I am just going to read a few stories and then fall asleep - but, you end up staying up longer than intended to finish the book because your fingers are itching to turn over the page to see what the next sheet with unravel.

I hardly slept, marinating as I was in the putrid odours of burnt sauce and meat.

“Shit! This is the worst possible time to take a break,” I cursed under my breath as my thoughts homed in on the new client pitch in the coming week. “The timing is all f***** up,” I muttered as I mentally ran over the salient points that I wanted to pitch. My forehead furrowed. I arched my back to relieve the tightness. My neck felt stiff and I rolled my shoulders to work the suddenly sore muscles. But, that only brought momentary relief as always.