Five authors spin a short story
By Bilal Siddiqi
He was all of 40 and had seen his fair share of troubles, but even then, a few expletives hurled at him by an adjacent biker at the traffic signal were enough to ruin his day. So much so that he did not even enjoy his daily ritual of trolling celebrities and politicians on social media during his smoke breaks.
By Sreemoyee Piu Kundu
She had been here, before. She knew. And yet, the familiar un-surety faded away the minute she looked up.
‘Have we met before?’
She wiped her lips.
‘You mean now?’
A rare find
By Durjoy Datta
The silence of the bookstore was briefly punctured.
I looked up and the sound was gone. A little later, I heard it again. I traced the sound to the back alley of the bookstore no one went to. There was this girl reading a book, crying. A book untouched for years. Finally, I had found a reader who had found me.
By Andaleeb Wajid
It took just 30 seconds.
‘Here are your clothes,’ she said, handing him the bag.
‘Here are your keys,’ he said, plonking them on her palm.
‘Goodbye,’ she said softly as he left.
‘Good riddance,’ he called out from the door.
It took all her will power not to call him back. She hoped he would not notice that one of his old T-shirts was not in the bag.
By Meghna Pant
I cut open my stomach and give it to my family. They refuse. Shed tears. I kick my son and slap my daughter. I curse my wife with her swollen belly.
“All day you beg,” I shout at them, “yet everyday we starve?”
“In this mad city money grows in tall buildings,” they cry. I’ll bring this money down, I vow, right here on this dirty pavement.
My hand grips the knife. I know that I will cut someone; rob them of stomach and wallet.
We will eat.
From HT Brunch, August 23, 2020
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