Short Shories


  • A Gift from God

    In a dim lit alley, a lone figure stood, fixed in some thought with a cocked pistol in their hand when an echo of a condescending question was heard. “Did you deliberately choose this setting?”, “Not so loud, Hope. You might attract suspicion”, answered a figure draped in a flimsy green plastic raincoat, pacing nervously, twisting and fidgeting with the gun in his hand.

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  • Partitioned time

    The world around was spinning, the surroundings changing, a country divided into a binarial new, and a line demarcating the two. The morning of August 18 and the year 2017. Mohan wakes up from his slumber and senses little impressions- specks of dust arranging themselves around his bare arms. He rubs his eyes but is unable to extend his vision to look in the vicinity as ashes and smut mar his pe

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  • The Middle Class flyer

    The waiting lounge of an Indian airport is one of the most happening places in the country. For, here you’ll see people, happen. If one closely observes, you'll find three genres of people here.   The first type, and the scarce one, is the ‘urgent traveller’. These people have nothing in mind but making it to their destination on time. It's easy identifying this set of peo

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  • We Were Like Gods Once

    Arjun lit up a cigarette and the first whiff of smoke was enough to jolt Rama’s olfactory and bring him back from a stream of an ongoing thought. Arjun looked at him and offered him a puff. “It is one of those new flavored ones. Seems they are popular these days.” Rama shook his head and let his back rest on a marble bench in this park in the middle of the city, the only object,

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  • Love should have known its boundaries

    “So what happened exactly on that night?” Shikha asked Faizal who was still not ready to look up into the camera. “Faizal? Faizal?” She called out again, but he didn’t reply. He kept looking down. “Cut it,” she told the cameraman and the shooting was cancelled. Shikha, the senior journalist of a leading news channel came out of the newsroom without comp

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  • Red- A short Story (Part 2)

    Red...the conclusion    Work commitments kept  both of us busy on weekdays so we decided to meet on Saturday.  Enthralled and super excited for the weekend, I felt days getting longer and moving in slow pace.    Big task was to select the color of  dress as I and Vishal have  discussed it earlier. Messages floated freely without hesitation and usage of

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  • Red- A short Story (Part 1)

    Red(part l)    Today we met exactly after 8 months 2 days. Excitement and nervousness reaching at its peak of eruption.     I still remember our first meet on Makar Sankranti  day 2 years back. The combination of his  blood Red t-shirt and his charming personality created flirtatious atmosphere . Though we had no interactions except our introductions, the ren

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  • Cemetery Repaid

        She sat down in the porch, a glass of sparkling water in hand. The only surroundings were the night’s solitude and reminiscences. Though she thought about him everyday, but more so today. It was his birthday and he was not here. The cold dreadful night of September 23rd 1999 still sent chills down her spine. “This was the night my husband passed away.”   &l

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  • Seven

    She suddenly remembered that night. There was a silent prayer on her lips as she went to bed alone. Kshitij had gone on a business trip and would not be home before the weekend. The unending thoughts had caused the sleep to evade her; after several unsuccessful attempts, she found herself ultimately going down the memory lane. It would be seven years since that fateful day. Their's was a happy mar

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  • A Doctor's Plight

    My grandma’s death somehow became more memorable to me than her life. I see her spewing out blood in the oxygen mask, every time I think of her. And I wonder how a fragile and decaying body like hers could produce blood so red and glistening, so much of it. That was the last time I saw her. I don’t remember much of her besides that. -------------------------------------------------

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  • A Loyal friend

    There was a destitute residing in the hamlet of affluent people. He was in his 30's, but because of his frail ailment he looked more like a 60 year old crippled man. With no specific shelter, and no money in hands he was a wanderer searching his own destiny. With no idea of future and no regrets of past he was on adventure everyday to hunt for bread and a feet of place to spend night sleeping. It

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  • The writer in the woods

    He was a prolific writer residing near the rainy forest. The solitude of his nature has earned him professionalism in his writings, and to deprive himself from flings he was more like a mysterious writer to the world. He was well known by his words, but his identity wasunidentified. Every weekend his tales of short love stories gets published in the column of the newspaper, and it goes on becomin

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  • Those Perfumed Pages

    It’s been more than 2 years since I’ve been home. “My home”!! the memories are still afresh in the ravines of my mind when I persuaded my parents to allow me to move into a new city, a new place, excitedly trying my best to step into the shoes of thousands of other students flocking to new cities, new countries and new places every year; leaving behind their cushiony and co

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  • Chronicles of Annie

    "Mumma, where have you hidden my Papa's gift?"  Annie asked with excitement.    Katherine, though busy in kitchen preparing snacks for the evening party, replied, showing curves of her lips and  smiling, "this time Papa has not sent you any , because he dint get time to find the best gift, honey". "Oh no Mumma, this is not fair" Annie replied in sad tone.    It

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  • The Other Woman

    In his marriage of five years, this was a first. Raj was going back home at 3 p.m. taking a half day leave from the office. He had decided to confide everything to Priya, his wife. Why had he been ignoring her? Not paying attention to her and not even making love? All these questions were making him restless although he knew the reason---- Sonia, his secretary. He had been in an extra-marital af

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  • God always has a plan

    Vintage clock, struck 2.00 am and Nayan started opening windows and door of the house. He laid on the bare floor and started to unbutton his shirt.      "I am feeling very hot and having burning sensation in my stomach, please do something " said Nayan to his parents. It  was now midnightaround 2.30am.  His parents increased the speed of fan and seei

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  • MY FLIGHT TO RESURRECTION

    I can’t clearly recall the hour I returned to my home after spending typically a gruelling day at work. Now, I am accustomed to this chock-a-block schedule of mine. I like being busy. I stealthily opened the main gate and walked inside my plush bungalow located in the prime location of Delhi. By that time, extreme lethargy had sapped me of all my strength and capacity to stand up straight. T

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  • THE BIRTH OF AKIRA

    Tuesday, Dec 2015'08 Tik Tik of the roman numerical clock seemed to stop at 15.08. I ran, my eyes searching for Room no. 5, on the First floor with white tiles and white paint on the door. As I neared I could hear my wife's restless voice.   Riddhima, Riddhi-this is what I call her, was chanting Hanuman Chalisa with heaving breath and moistened eyes. Sweating, labor pains, and delivery anx

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  • A 'Perfect' moment. What is it?

    “Every moment is the paradox of now or never.” ― Simon Van Booy The atmosphere of her house was bright in that dark night. Her friends were grooving with the music. She was not looking her best in that skater dress of dull Olive color with flat sandals. It’s not that she didn’t have the town’s best collection but still she chose to wear that on her birthday what sh

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  • Back at the Graveyard

    Lies come to me easily. I don’t know how many times I have lied. If I sit down to count, I don’t know how many decades it will take. Turns out there is a scientific term for people like me. A pathological liar. That’s what I am, they think. But not what I am. There is a reason to my existence. Behind it. Ankit, a friend, at least he said so, had come over yesterday. No one knows

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  • LOVE YOURSELF FIRST

    “So like any other normal adult (but still had a tint of teenager left in me), I was also hoping for a beautiful birthday. But I guess my hopes started getting high way too earlier than my birthday and by the time I reached my special day, hopes started to drop and reality slapped my face. Actually I just had 3 friends (but the qualitative ones, at least what I thought). Unfortunately they

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  • New beginnings- Part 1

    She put her lipstick on and pouted. The last time she used it was during her college farewell. ‘A lipstick always adds elegance to what you wear’ she thought. "Tina, your cab is here", said Meetali. She looked at herself, top to bottom once more and walked to the door. "Coming" she yelled to Meetali sitting in the living room. "MG road bhaiya", she told the driver signaling him to l

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  • 8 days a week

    Review: 8 Days a Week, a novel based on the life of a salesman who put extra ordinary efforts to sell different product of the company. Rohan aka Ron, 25 years old completed his MBA from IIMT Ghaziabad and done his internship at IFICI Bank. He was an average student in college but had a good knowledge about selling. There was this girl, Anu who came in his li

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  • The American Indian Dream

    The negative side of the American Dream comes when people pursue success at any cost, which in turn destroys the vision and the dream.” ~ Azar Nafisi     Einstein said- If your head tells you one thing and your head tells you another before you do anything, decide whether you have a better head or a better heart. ‘An American Indian Dream’ is a novel that

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  • She wanted to feel my pain

    She was a psychiatrist, young and brilliant and I, another case of depression. That's how we met. Regular sessions with her had made me fall for her and somewhere between recovery and delusion; she felt the same for me. I don't know what made a girl like her fall in love with me, but she did. We started going out and my condition was getting better. Careful medication and her undivided love for me

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  • Why I don’t do No-shave Novembers.

      "Hey! Growing your beard out this November?" my friends, ask me in college, parading around in their 5-day stubble. I would laugh and say no, and then shave for a second time that day. People assume that I can't grow a beard, or that I am not man enough to do it; which might be partially true. But I have something more personal for a reason. It's fear. Bharathanna was the eldest of all th

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