Read few social poems. In the master bed room, his son was lost in the cyberspace and wife chattering on phone.
I could not live up to the romantic image promoted by the Bollywood. I was a Chemist working in a factory located some sixty kilometers away from home
Half-an-hour can be very crowded—in a police station, especially an Indian one.A rude auto- rickshaw driver had rammed into her car. It was afternoon—mid-March, hot, humid.
Editor’s Choice:They were an ordinary pair of two black stones. Lifeless. Solitary. Forlorn. Buffeted by strong winds sweeping down the hills. Two tall stones only: Sprouting forcefully from the ground.
Editor’s Choice: Again, that gloomy December evening, in the hugging shadows, outside the dim-lit hovel, stood the young neighbor that had, strangely, got transformed into stalker