Tag Archives: shortstory

Would you believe it? Not a single relative shed a tear at the funeral including my wife and kids. I tell you, I had half a mind to cancel plans for ascendance and haunt the nightmares out of them. But, I took the high road and resisted the temptation. Finally, I was laid to rest. As the first shovel full of soil hit my casket, I panicked.

We went out often after that for meals and even movies. We discovered that we had much in common. We talked endlessly and shared stories of our childhood. I told him about my family, he told me about his. He was an army brat who had been raised all over India. His older brother was a software engineer in America and had recently married an American girl. The specifics of our friendship gradually changed as we discovered more about each other. Something grew between us but was yet unspoken. It was Rohit who confessed it first on one of our outings.

As I sat at the banquet following the wedding, realization dawned that this man that I now proudly called my friend, had changed my perception about the homosexuality. Via his own magnanimous heart he had helped me be comfortable around the very people whom I had kept a distance from. His ebullient personality had infected cheer and laughter into my drab world. And, I was just one person whose life he had touched. I wondered how many more lives his magnanimous heart had enriched and would continue to enrich.

The wind chimes on the door jangled as she pushed it open. Even after over two decades, the store seemed familiar. The layout had changed but it still smelled the same, of mystery and intrigue. It was crammed from floor to ceiling with artefacts and collectibles. The minute Rohan spied the nautical ships, his demeanour changed. His eyes shone with excitement as he darted between the display racks. He suddenly seemed roused from his insipidity.

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 …