The newspaper slipped from the professor’s hand. “The huge peepal tree fell by the cyclone in the old town of Bhubaneswar,” was the head line. “Unimaginable,” exclaimed Prof. Jagannath Rout. “What’s the news?Why are you so disturbed?”, asked his wife.
Read More »Peace is inner pleasure Does it have a colour Its up to the beholder The spring brings red palsh galore Your eyes enjoy the bounty Is it not pleasure and peace of mind The morning sun’s yellow light Brings a
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You woke before dawn as always.The ceiling fan hummed above.Beside the bed ,the framed degree you earned twelve years ago, rested on the desk.You wiped the thin layer of dust on it with your palm.The calender on the wall had
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Rashmi sat on the porch as always, watching the hues of the setting sun in the sky.She was recalling her past, which evoked themes of nostalgia,family ,and the emotional connection to her house. At that time Raghu came and put
Read More »The Undeveloped Film I married the man, who had lost his mother at a tender age of five. So I went to a family without a mom-in-law, but had two aunts-in-law. The family was quite large. My father-in-law had two
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Some bonds in life do not need to express with words, they are felt deeply in the heart. One such bond in me is with my pet dog Golu, the white Pomeranian.He is not by my side anymore, but his
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The sky was strange that morning, dull yellow and restless clouds swirling above Bhubaneswar.It was the morning of 29 October 1999. Sunita was preparing breakfast for her son Anuj, glancing occasionally at the television where news of a super storm
Read More »#102 #TinyStories Truth. Rain tapped on the glass window as Reena held the faded letter in shaking hands. She turned to her mother.” Tell me the truth.Am I your adopted daughter?” Her mother’s eyes glistened.Its been seventeen years. What a
Read More »On Mars. Deepika greeted grandson with much happiness on his arrival. Earlier she had prepared his choicest dishes. While dining,he asked,”and how is your story writing going on granny?” ” Bublu, me an old timer.Writing with the new gen is
Read More »Where Rivers Meet. ********************* He stood at the edge of the boat at Sangam,pressing the urn to his chest,the remains of his dear father.The priest’s chants faded into the rush of water.He had come by flight to Prayagraj the day
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