We had a piano, an old rustic one, the keys amazingly were all attuned to perfection and mother played on it sometimes. Rajii and I would sit there clap or dance if the symphony struck us melodiously enough and mother would join us later with a glass of wine. She would be so happy that…
Tag: Fiction
Undecided
The antique shop in the middle of Oxfordshire looked dusty and rusty and a wee bit ominous. The crow perched on the lamppost outside added to this aura of despondency. “That’s a treasure trove my friend,” Stankovich, the devil’s advocate, looked grave and important as he shed light on the historic place like a tour…
Jilly
Jill walked slowly, sloshing her wet boots on the gravel interspersed with mud puddles that erupted like acne along the sides of the ridge boulevard every monsoon. The rains had just stopped but thunder rumbled somewhere beyond the dark clouds. The Denzong valley, nestled in the foothills of the mighty Himalayas was engulfed in a…
Snippet
There was a room that Rajii agreed to explore with me, this was the room of trophies. Animal skin and horns saddled with books among other things. It was a curious sort of a room; scary at nights and interesting during the day. However, our attention was mainly focussed on a glass cabinet high up…
For “How we first met” Series
A story about brothers.
Remembering gramps
My grandfather was a jolly old fellow with silver hair and some gaps in his row of teeth. He played war games with us sometimes and taught us things called strategy while fighting. “You let the enemy advance into your territory,” he said while moving our tin soldiers, bottle caps, and wooden dogs who made…
An unreliable narrator?
We all talk about different narrative voices in fiction and there is the famous unreliable narrator. I am quite fascinated by this narrator who leaves the ultimate power of discernment to the reader. This technique which is assessed from different critical point of views by various schools of thought is a gloriously satisfying narration and…
Point of view
The moldy smell of old decaying wood hit you as you entered the tiny unkempt premises of the Smiths. The boundaries of the lawn had overrun the house or maybe it was the other way round but neither looked any better for it. The rooms were on the first floor accessed by a rickety flight…
By the eyes of men
The fat man put his grubby fingers on her chest trailing a line over each tight mounds with his thumb, he grabbed her waist and started feeling her sleek and smooth legs, rubbing them up and down beneath her skirt. There was a feverish gleam in his eyes. ‘I’ll take it,’he passed the Doll to…