Fiction

“Tsk…later, eat these first.” Daddy points to piping hot samosas. ‘Got them specially for you.’ It’s been thirty years. He doesn’t know I’ve turned gluten free. I ask again. “We must’ve given them to the maids or something…it’s been thirty years.”...

One Wednesday in August, I decide to haiku and eulogize my mother. Not at the same time, of course. I could never fit a haiku around my Ma. 17 syllables would be far too many for her euphony. Ghrrrrrrr ghrrrrrrrr ghrrrrrrr was the only sound she...

“You can’t play with those boys under the jamun tree!” warned his grandmother as Amit reached out to push the heavy black metal gate open. “Why?” He wanted to scream the why out, but knew better. “Because they’re dirty, filthy scum…those jamadars...