She stands at the busiest signal in the suburb. Her hair is a hay-like brown from undernourishment and her skin is tanned from standing in the sun all day. I see her every time my taxi stops at the signal—more than a couple of times every week. Almost always, she has a smile on her …
[ Continue Reading... ]Category: Fiction
This morning, I was rummaging through my mother’s stationery drawers, looking for a notepad. As I dug deeper, I found an old, yellowed, barely used notepad with a cooperative bank’s logo and header. Across the first leaf was strewn his name. In his characteristic, well practiced, fine handwriting. I turned the page overleaf and fingered …
[ Continue Reading... ]When the school first announced the Parents Day celebration and the fact that each child in the play group and nursery will perform something or other, I said, “Aww, how cute.” It ended at that. I was looking forward to it for a month, but I had no clue what song or dance my kid …
[ Continue Reading... ]Being a work-from-home-mum has its disadvantages. You tend to switch on the laptop shortly after you’ve brushed, hoping to check your email before the rest of the house wakes up—just so you can plan your tasks for the day when you’re still sane. And that’s not even the tip of the iceberg. After responding to …
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Every time I blow my nose into an inadequate piece of tissue, Avanee comes up and strokes the side of my thigh, looks up at me with comforting eyes, and says, “Amma, OK?” She lays her dolls and animals and birds down in her lap one by one, pats them lightly on the forehead, occasionally …
[ Continue Reading... ]Way back in 2010, a few months after my daughter, Avanee’s birth, I had written this (very) short story for a contest online. I thought you might like to read it. Long hair, Bharatanatyam, feminism, cooking. Kohl in her eyes and a cake for every birthday in the family. Shopping for hand-woven sarees and carnations …
[ Continue Reading... ]One fine evening last week, Avanee was eating rice with me as we watched our favorite show on television. (No, it wasn’t CBeebies; it was a regional Marathi serial that is probably inappropriate for her age but she likes to see the old grandmother in it…there I go justifying myself again.) We polished off a …
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