The second-born [flash fiction]

Green-masked faces crowded around…’Push harder!!!’ The ugly yellow lizard watched, unblinking. ‘You’ll understand..’ she murmured. ‘..my little girl.. fair.. pretty.. just like Sister..’ ‘Focus!’ ‘And this second?!’ ‘PUSH!’ ‘…What if… she’s .. you .. or me??? …Another lifetime.. of inferiority begins…’ [Blink]                                              ‘PUSSSSHHHH!!!!’ She gave in. —— It was a boy. She laughed. She cried!

Lips unsealed (Short story)

Groups of ill-paid chauffeurs gossiped over a smoke. None of them paid attention to the car in the darkest corner. Nobody cared, really. It was just another car. Tinted glasses, fully rolled up. From the rear seat came muffled sounds. Floundering hands, unsure of their next move. A young couple, in their early twenties. Half-children, half-adult. Clandestine visits to the local video store had resulted in them getting to watch several tapes that read ‘Tom and Jerry’ but which were more than just a cat vs. mouse tale. They had a vague idea of how lips were to be used. Lips that parted…

The train

The doors shut, and the surging crowd pushed Ram into a corner of the compartment. The train was packed. He took in a deep breath. And smelt Dior. Mesmerised, he hunted for its owner. There she was, standing next to him, a voluptuous nymph, clutching a red leather handbag. A long gold chain plunged down her neckline, bearing tiny letters in rubies, “Tina”. She pulled a pink journal from her bag, and jotted something. “You can’t write much on a moving train!”, Ram said, to break the ice. She glared. He flashed a charming smile. Her luscious lips, painted in soft hues of pink, returned his…

And we gathered…(short story/incident)

I stood in awe of our neighbour’s apartment. Teakwood furnishings, glass cabinets, exquisite showpieces from around the world. In short, something that I wanted our house to look like. As we stepped out, and reviewed our unfinished apartment, I noticed something on the opposite side of the road. A tenement of smaller houses. Old, and evidently poor. Loads of black children played around, walking in and out through the chipped doors. I felt strange. I was a little afraid.   Friends came a-visiting the next day, and as we sat around the coffee table, chatting about petty things, we could sense an…