A stale slice of bread with the heart cut out. She squinted hard to unsee it, but there it was on her plate like the slice that was her life. Cold, heartless, lacking warmth Did she deserve it? The wind rattled outside, the last of the logs was smoldering, it will be dark soon darker and colder. For the uninitiated, in case y.

2015 Twitter Fiction Contest Winner. Click on the above picture logo to read the poem. My first collection of short stories along with my friend Ravi Sidula. Click on the above image to buy the book from Pothi. Ten Modern Short Stories 2010.

A mystic tribute to the time, that glorified my moments, in the solace of one Divine Entity, one Pious Soul, on the banks of whom,I deposit my worries, my happiness and My SOUL. Friday, November 1, 2013 by Indrajit. We parted ways beneath the desert moon ages ago Afreen,. Vagabonds linger and rests sometimes passing by the spot Afreen,. Their hearts of longing, distant from their beloved homeland Afreen,. Do they too smell the desert, of love I buried ages ago Afreen? You were my zikr.

Mother of all coincidences, eh? Easter egg hunters, connect the comic to Lawrence Fishburne. This story is set in an alternate history Bangalore of the late 1970s. You may link to this work.

This website is best viewed. For an interview with the author, click. Monday, 29 November 2010. The Champion, the Hunted. He can never do it. Ever! They began writing his sporting obituary. Statistics have a story to say, too.

I saw his hands moving slowly completing two words and the pencil touching his forehead, in deep thought obviously verifying if the words made sense and if he should continue with his sentence. I saw the tiny little pieces of paper that the eraser takes with it and the pieces flying away when she saw him blowing hard at them. There is nothing worse than wondering what could have been.