Fiction

Mother is not home when I arrive, even though I had called ahead of time. It has been three years. The distance has turned me into a tourist in my own backyard. I take the lane that zigzags through...

It’s her lipstick that piques my interest. A blood red crescent drawn precisely in the middle of her full mouth, like a young Geisha’s, except the pigment doesn’t keep within the confines of her...

When it was time, I stepped into the bath full of spider webs. Some quivered with rage. Some crackled like silence does, like pomegranate seeds do. I crusted over their collective mutiny of light,...

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....

Published in the Kindle Mag “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...