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Biryani Blues | Sarthak Sharma

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”

Him | Pranav Shrivastava

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”

A Nice Man | Nalini Rao

Shachi never trusted Ma’s choice in men, always sensing conflict whenever the subject was broached. Ever since Ma had resigned herself to her daughter turning 28, a suitable enough age according to her relatives, she had been urging her only daughter to get married. But there was a constant wrangle between wanting her daughter to have a companion, and the risk of losing someone she considered to be her only support in a house full of unsupportive men. Shachi didn’t like any of the men her mother recommended. [Read the rest...] “A Nice Man | Nalini Rao”

Good People | Upasana

“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”

Comic Book Collector | John Tavares

In Yonge-Dundas Square downtown, Dan observed Lori seated in a comfortable lotus position, sketching, drawing, and even painting, reading from an art history book, or a volume or paintings of photographs, taking photographs with her camera, but he didn’t recognize her from their hometown. Lori sometimes saw him in the square, wearing a suit, reading the business section of the Globe and Mail, or the Wall Street Journal, drinking a takeout coffee from 7-11 or Starbucks. Then she did her research on social media and asked to meet him. [Read the rest...] “Comic Book Collector | John Tavares”

Inverted Justice | Kamalini Natesan

“Shanta, don’t worry about it, I will take care. You leave!” Misra called out to his wife in a gentle tenor belying his inner turmoil. Shanta was putting her lunchbox together. The husband of many years had brewed the morning tea, which they both sipped quietly in the verandah. It was the month of April, a year after Shanta had made it rain, as Juhi, their daughter reminded the couple on occasion. [Read the rest...] “Inverted Justice | Kamalini Natesan”

The Noose | Naresh Kumar

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”