Last Letter Written (fiction)

It wasn’t until late December that I found the envelope. It was addressed to no one. It bore the seal of ‘Vrindavan Home for the Aged’. That is how I realised it (perhaps) belonged to my father. Before you stand on high moral ground and fire me for having sent away my old (and ailing!) Dad to the Home, do try to understand, and if possible, even believe that I truly did not want to send him there. At sixty, he was fit as a fiddle. We used to fight over the TV every evening, and would both finally lose … Continue reading Last Letter Written (fiction)

The lookalike (55-er)

This 55 word fiction was written for N-Zine. ‘Mother’. ‘Hatred’. Two words that evoked similar emotions. She hated looking like Mummy. She hated being told that! At sixteen, ‘I wish I wasn’t YOUR daughter!’, she screamed. ‘You aren’t’, Mummy replied quietly. Daddy showed her the adoption papers. ‘We hoped YOU wouldn’t feel out of place’ She stared at her albino Mummy and cried. Continue reading The lookalike (55-er)

Inviting contributions for ‘Chicken Soup for the Soul’ series

Posting this on behalf of Baisali Chatterjee, who is in charge of the ‘Chicken Soup for the Indian Soul: Celebrating Brothers & Sisters’ publication. Publishing house: Westland Try and state specific episodes as to why you think that the person you are writing about deserves to be in the Chicken soup series. Please send your stories to: Last dates for accepting submissions: November 15th 2010. But do try and send your stories ASAP as I will close as soon as I have selected my 101 stories for the same. The write-ups will carry the contributor’s name. Westland pays Rs … Continue reading Inviting contributions for ‘Chicken Soup for the Soul’ series

Old but not forgotten contests

Not just one, but two exciting contests that we held in Blogworld, one by Chatterbox and the other by Ruchi, caught the fancy of a lot of bloggers. The catch though, was that we were not allowed to reveal the ‘author’s name’ or publicise it on our respective blogs. Which, obviously ensured a very fair voting system, with wonderful results. For a change, it was posts that really deserved the prize, who won 🙂 And that is really far cry from all those blog contests that thrive only on votes. So the first was a completely awesome ‘Complete the story’ … Continue reading Old but not forgotten contests

Past Promises, Forgotten Futures (Fiction)

*** If you happen to like my post, Pliss to Vote on Indiblogger, here: *** Thanks 🙂 *** ========================== (This is purely a work of fiction, but I believe this is what most women go through at some point in life! Some survive it, while many don’t get to ever live their dreams. I hope this post will act as a catalyst to those who fall in the latter category.) ‘Cngrts!’ – the phone beeped with this simple message. She stared at it, rather uncertainly. Who was this from? What were the ‘congratulations‘ for? Try as she might, she … Continue reading Past Promises, Forgotten Futures (Fiction)

Secret of the TV Wall – My first 3WW

I’ve been following the very interesting 3WW at Intrepid Dreamer’s blog for the last couple of weeks. Every week, I manage to miss it… and today, finally, I landed at the page on a Wednesday 🙂 So here’s my entry: 3 words: Engulf, Imminent, Tamper ———– Daughters. Sons. Grandchildren. They huddled around the hospital bed. She was 90. Frail, weak. ‘Some water, Ma?’ the youngest daughter asked. Ma shook her head. Very slightly. ‘Wi…’ she muttered. Nobody heard. They were far too engulfed in sorrow. Much as they had hated the old hag, the fact was, they had spent a lifetime … Continue reading Secret of the TV Wall – My first 3WW

The reticent (flash fiction)

Reticent. That is what best describes me. Probably. My mum would have found the right word. Had she been around. Infact, had she not left, I would probably not be – reticent. She was wonderful – my mother. I don’t remember her being pretty. Nor attractive. But when she came to collect me from school, my friends would spot her bulky frame, run towards her to greet her. They would tell her about what they did in the classroom that day. She would be all smiles. Crows-feet around her eyes. Yes, that’s what I remember most about her. When she … Continue reading The reticent (flash fiction)