He began to imagine a time when we won’t be able to separate our physical and cyber selves
'Unlike other pursuits that might lose charm over the years, newspaper reading still brings that same adrenaline rush every morning': The writer soaks in the morning which opens up time timelessly.
Once, as the fable goes, the rains stood up the people of Anantapur. Maybe the monsoon died in transit. That's when people tried the age-old practices of enticing water-ridden clouds.
Fame does not come to everybody so easily. It is not one of those things that you can really work towards. It’s not that you can wake up one day and decide that you want to be famous, irrespective of how popular you may be...
Did the demon of demonetization ever visit us? Kashif Ilyas’s protagonist follows a man to a door and walks in, and when he turns to look back, the door has vanished. This fiction has a dark-chuckling undertone.
The retreating monsoons had done their job and left the land cleansed and wet. The sky had cleared, and the sun had broken through the clouds, shining down upon the inhabitants...
A massive crowd gathered at Doyal Rajbongshi’s house in Jaila Para, the fisherfolk’s hamlet.
I did own a jolnapai, a gift from appa. He outgrew his pair of black-but-fast-turning-grey polyester pants and so he took them to a tailor a few blocks down the road and had them sewn into two jolnapais. One for him. One for...
‘Sometimes, the felines’ earnest endeavors would even go in vain as the ailing lady would end up burying her face in her hands,’ writes Hina Fatima Khan...
A 9-year-old boy is witness to rows of coffins from his mountain house window. Through his innovative Blues, short dirges straight from the heart, he pines for...
The death of Wajiri did not make it to the local news, nor did the police check on her disappearance. It was just another case, a statistic best forgotten.
With a view to bringing voices from faraway places, especially of the marginalised and the forgotten, we have had poetry, stories and reports translated from...
Antonio Vaz, a peon at the municipal office in Mapusa town, had a one-storied mansion so close to the sea that the waves would spew fury on its walls when the...
“How was your day?” I ask my wife as if I can still ruin it...
They’re my children who experienced the warmth of my womb for nine months. Today, I can’t even say they’re mine. They’re Raja Khan’s children. Not...
Ruskin Bond, India’s best-loved author, turned 88 on May 19. He recollects a spooky incident that happened during his days as a struggling freelance writer...
For Hasan, a man seemingly in his mid-thirties, roads often lead to more roads. An encounter with Vikram near a temple on an October night ends with a strange...
It must be difficult, having to worry if you could die honourably, if you could die with dignity, not asking, not begging, for the pain to stop. For if you...
‘I am not comfortable in the company of women, to the extent that I had agreed to a nikah about a year and a half ago but had not made any arrangements to...
It was her quiet and fiery resilience that had attracted me to her: she was glorious, mysterious, and almost unattainable. Even in the throes of desire, a part...
Everybody—her parents, grandparents, uncles, aunts, children and the servants in the extended family—huddle around her on the carpet, enchanted by the...
A white woman from Italy once walked into a bar in Karnataka, making the heads of dark men turn. As she became a regular, there was a wave of suspicion among...
Mr. Bose, a psychotherapist with a practice of over 20 years, would get a stream of middle-class urban clients, but Sunita was different. The first couple of...
The short story by Mayabhushan Nagvenkar, a writer and journalist based in Goa, is part of an unpublished collection titled Anjuna Tales
He had thought of her as she was, as her name spoke of: a single star. And now the star had burnt out, consumed by the vastness of the galaxy.
