Tag: #shortstory

The Girl

With great expectation the teenaged girl asks —- Will you keep me, O Babu? She wears a dirty frock torn near the armpit, dark is her complexion and bare-footed, but her face is very innocent and two eyes have an impression of passionate simplicity. Haripada Bhattacharjee just after finishing lunch and sitting on the extended Read More …

The Identity Conundrum

The scuffling footsteps barely raised the din that was already mounting in the crowded corridor on the fourth floor of St. Peter’s College. Lars Erikssen was a 22-year-old guy, currently doing a major in Psychology. However, he was late for the 10 o’clock lecture. The clock the other end of the corridor showed 10 minutes Read More …

Dark Secrets

Secrete – seven letters amalgamate to protect, to keep some sorts of things hidden from the knowledge of the rest of the world. Interesting stuff. Strange and mysterious too. It was almost the end of winter. On Thursday afternoon relaxing in an armchair in my bedroom I was reading the Bible. After a long time. Read More …

Hamartia

Futility of life strikes us at an hour when we feel our most active self. All that energy building up, creating a crescendo, ultimately falls into deep dark pits in its culmination, for after all, when has any action ever executed ever mattered? Noel’s life was such a transient phase of such futility, all his Read More …

Snail Mail

i. Tapas was conceived in the year post offices downsized their workforce by half and their efficiency almost entirely, and most of the old workers who got up in the morning and dusted their heads and brushed their moustache and wore the semi khaki uniforms that identified them as postal workers, were handed over a Read More …

Saga

“Do you know the meaning of your name?” Lipika asked. “I don’t know what it actually means but Ma christened me with a quite exotic name. Isn’t it?” sassed Saga with a glimpse of tears in her eyes. But the question today somehow sounded a bit jarring to her. She while coming back home intruded Read More …

Azazel’s Child

Since time immemorial, I have been poppy, although my real name was Pophyria. Papie had named me so in a fantasy of his, following the name of some character in some famous poet’s work. But the rest of my family never really understood the use of such a fancy name for a girl of my Read More …