Posted in Fiction

The Miracle

He was busy comparing the numbers when the call came. He ignored the rings. The numbers.. those were more important. He would show them, of course. His wife and his daughter who thought that they could make him look like a fool and get away with it.

“So what if I liked buying lottery tickets?”, he muttered to himself.. “They smirk and laugh behind my back as if I’m an idiot. ‘Look at the statistics..’ ‘look at the odds..’ well, I say the odds are pretty damn great if I buy enough tickets!”

The odd win altered his confidence in a way that the thousand fails did not. He would obsess over the numbers, absolutely sure that he would one day win that million. Oh yes, he was sure. Perhaps it was the straw that he grasped at, knowing that nothing else he did could bring back everything he plundered and ruined; that he did not have the skills or the heart to work his way up the ladder like the common man, not toil from rags to riches.. oh no, of course not. He was nothing short of royalty, and that is what he would be again, once he won his million, and reclaimed all that he lost.

Once he won. It would be the miracle he needed to show the world. He knew that he would, and so he picked at the numbers again.. ticket after ticket, staring at the numbers that never matched anywhere. The miracle was still at bay.

The phone rang again, and he picked it up furiously, irritated at the bunch of paper that refused to turn into gold in his hands.., and then went still.

What was that.. his daughter? What about his daughter?



It was all very blurry. The funeral, the crowd, the nods, the sighs. Perhaps it rained a little. Perhaps it didn’t. Perhaps it was too sunny. He couldn’t say. It was too bright and too dark to tell.

And somehow it was still darker a few days later when another call came through.

“What was that.. a million..??”

“Yes, sir. Your daughter had named you as the sole nominee for the term insurance cover, hence the lump sum amount goes to you. There are some formalities of course. If you could please come over to our office, we could start… hello??”

I loved her then in a strange, new kind of way, as one loves a finely tuned sentence in a book that one wishes one could write but knows one can’t.

– Shashi Tharoor

(The Other Man)

Posted in Fiction

Fireworks For Christmas

Shops glowed with Christmas lights as she walked down the street. Large posters everywhere announced special discounts on overpriced goods. People moved past in a hurry clutching bulging packages rustling with crispy newness. Joy is in the air, sang some elves stationed outside a toy store, with Santa nodding in agreement. She eyed them with dispassion. Festive seasons always brought out the cynic in her. Ballyhoo of goodwill on prescribed dates struck her as ridiculous. Humbug, she muttered, siding with Scrooge.

It was then that the world erupted in colors. Fire dragons flew from a lone roof top to burst into flames in the sky. Little phoenixes rose from them, coloring the night glittery red, green and yellow. The clouds crunched under their wings splitting the stillness. A child laughed. Something stirred. As she watched, the glimmer faded into a bokeh of memories. She stood still, remembering.

Christmas Eve. 21 again.

They walked around in the park adjacent to the sea, hand in hand, oblivious to everything else. The cool night air was still and soothing, like his whispers in her ear. Her quiet laughter fell like dew drops into the silence, discerned by him and no one else. They walked on forever, for in love every moment is eternity in itself.

She was the one who noticed the abandoned boat, half hidden by the foliage. It lay against the sand and reeds, just brushing the water, oars interspersed with the waves like fingers refusing to let go. It welcomed them without stirring. Side by side on the wooden thwart, she felt him graze her arm. She looked up at him with the hint of a blush on her cold cheeks. He pushed aside an untamed strand of her hair and held her face in his left hand. Across the shore, the sky became a flurry of hues. The last thing she saw before closing her eyes was a blur of golden sparks, before the feel of his lips simulated the same in her head and the world ceased to exist.

She opened her eyes 42 years later and smiled. Yes, joy was in the air.

Posted in Fiction

Red Bangles

This is something I penned for a short story writing competition some years back. The topic/prompt was Tears. It seems rather amateurish to me now, but I figured I’ll  post it anyway.

He saw her almost every day.

Not all of her of course. Now an outstretched hand with the blood red bangles, now a glimpse of the blue dupatta that waved at him in the wind. Sometimes the mere tinkling of her anklets as she ran down the street would suffice.

Every day as he walked home in the evening, he would linger there, right between the paanwala’s den and the cheap dhaba that sold much sought-after fly-ridden chaat , waiting till she appeared. And on some days she would not, even after he sacrificed three rupees on the dirty snacks as an excuse.

It was on a day such as this that he finally decided to venture into the dark alley that he knew only as her home. But a few wary steps later, his courage gave out. He was just about to turn around when –

“Hey, you!”

It was with a start that he located the voice. There she was, peering from a doorway. She of the blood red bangles and the blue dupatta. He noticed she had pretty eyes as she smiled.

“Hey you”, she repeated. “What are you doing here?”

He hesitated. Took a deep breath.

“Hi, I am Rahul. Can I be friends with you?”

She laughed, a tinkling sweeter than that of her anklets. The friendliness in her eyes gave way to curiosity.

“Why do you want to be friends with me?” she asked

“Well”, he began in a matter-of-fact tone,”I don’t have anyone my age where I live, and I see you every day on my way back from  school, so I thought maybe you can be my friend”

“Hmm..”, she said, considering the offer.”How old are you?”

“Turning 10 this summer”, he replied proudly.

“Then I’m afraid I’m a bit older than you”, she reasoned.

“Oh that’s okay”, he said. “I really like you, so I can make an exception.”

“I guess we are friends then”, she smiled again.

Rahul beamed. He was finally talking to.. wait –

“What’s your name?”

It was her turn to hesitate.

“Ch.. Charu”, she said, looking away.

He seemed pleased with the name.

“So what class are you in?”, he asked

“Oh, I don’t go to school”, she replied with a twinkle in her eye. “You see, I’m  a princess”

His eyes grew wide. “A princess??”

“Yes, a princess. I live here because I don’t want my enemies to find me”

The skeptic in Rahul spoke next. “Princesses don’t wear glass bangles, they wear golden ones!”

“I don’t wear them because that will give away my identity, idiot!”

Rahul had to admit she had a point.

“Okay then, tell me more!”

And she did. She told him of the armed guards who protected her and the old maids who waited on her. Of the snowy white bed she slept on. Of the delicious sweets she had. Of the golden plates and silver forks. Of the chandelier that sparkled at night. On and on, as the twilight set in, and the twinkle in her eyes grew brighter.

As enraptured as he was, Rahul had to admit he was getting late. He left with a solemn good bye and a happy promise to be back the next day. As she watched him walk away, she saw the snowy bed in her head. So much as a wrinkle and the Lady would hit her hard. The amazing sweets. Pinching off a crumb had the cook try to wrench her skin off. The cutlery. If they weren’t done just right, she could go without food for a day.

Of course, all this was way back. They would not keep her once she came of age. Now she was no longer a maid, but –


Startled, she came out of the reverie. The twilight had darkened and she was needed.  Those big men with betel-stained teeth and sweaty odour always wanted her. Her innocence, they believed, would wash away their sins. Her body had long grown numb to their hungry touch, but somewhere inside her, a child still dwelled.

Which is why, as she crossed the threshold into where shadows alone lurked, the twinkle in her eyes fell away and dropped down her cheeks.