Some said that Saleem put afeem (opium) in his biryani. Rumour or not, all of our townsfolk had, at some point in their lives, believed it. Once, after getting into a verbal spat with Saleem’s son, my father announced confidently that he had heard from a villager that another villager had seen Saleem pour afeem in the biryani, and that from then on we were to eat at Kareem’s instead. [Read the rest...] “Biryani Blues | Sarthak Sharma”
Fiction & Stories
Fiction (Short Stories & Excerpts)
Fiction, Short Stories and Excerpts of Novels. Indian Literature and Fiction from India and the world over.
This happens to be a new year party. Everyone here is intoxicated. The night is as young as ever and the songs playing on the speakers are rad and loud. No one can hear what the other person is saying. The disco lights planted on the wall are near blinding to the eyes. The party is as lively as it ever will be. All of this is enough for someone to socialize but not for him. He looks around. He is not particularly handsome, his hands and legs are too thin, his face is a little small but he has big, round, beautiful eyes. He happens to be an introvert but more importantly, also happens to be hungry. He looks around the room. [Read the rest...] “Him | Pranav Shrivastava”
“We are good people,” my boyfriend says, his voice laced with hurt and just a pinch of anger. “We haven’t even asked for a dowry.” I nod. I agree, they are, and they haven’t. I am staring at the plate of half-eaten Hakka noodles in front of me. My fingers are busy making tiny shreds of the thin paper napkin that had been a part of a swan’s plumage till very recently, till I had cruelly plucked it out and decided to desecrate it. It’s something I do when I am upset, destroy things. [Read the rest...] “Good People | Upasana”
The noose was fashioned from a thin, jute rope; it dangled from the old oak tree that marked the middle of the city’s square. The King’s soldiers circled the noose and the tree, their shields high and their spears sharp. A large, quiet crowd filled the square beyond them, swaying sadly to the tune of the day’s warm breeze, not unlike the noose itself. [Read the rest...] “The Noose | Naresh Kumar”