It was 7.30 in the morning and my alarm hadn’t gone off when Suhail showed up. I was still in my nightie when the bell rang and I was just looking for a dupatta to throw over my chest. But Shahryar said he’d get the door, so I settled back into bed.
A whole minute passed. The silence outside was making me nervous. Nobody who comes to our door in this town leaves without saying a word or two, even if it is just salaam, ram-ram, or I’llshowyoubitchjustwatch. Milkman, postman, courier, goons sent by the other party after I’ve had a good day in court. Everybody has something to say.
Read 'Registered Post' in The Caravan
"Once upon a time, I was in love with a donkey."
Read 'Donkeys' at Pratilipi
"... peep-holes can only be used to keep out familiar trouble. And trouble usually wears a familiar face"
Read 'Sujata' at Out of Print
"Things look different from far. When I was a boy, we used to chant a set of foolish rhymes about the illusion of distance. 'From far, I thought I saw a dozen eggs getting hard-boiled/ turned out to be a bunch of baldies getting their heads oiled!'..."
Read 'The Flautist' here, first published in New Woman magazine.
Other short stories have appeared in various anthologies like '21 Under 40' (Zubaan); 'Mumbai Noir' (Akshic/Harper Collins); 'City of Gods' (Unisun); 'Only Connect' (Rupa/Brass Monkey).