It’s Eid today, and it’s a strange one. No family around, no friends around, no shalwar-kameez to wear, no deciding which jamaat to go to, no fighting over parking at the mosque, no embarrassment over going into ruku while everyone else is still raising hands, no oily samosas and halwa puri to buy after namaaz …
When my mother was still a toddler, her father built a small cottage facing the Arabian Sea in a sleepy little town called Murud. This is the house where my mom and her seven siblings grew up, and where I, as a kid, spent most of my summer holidays. Starting the morning with a dip …
Every Sunday morning after watching Micky Mouse and Spiderman, I rode my bike to our local market. I haggled with the ladies selling produce under towering tamarind trees to buy onions and tomatoes and cilantro and green chillies. I then walked my bike to the butcher, Bhagwan, and ordered two kilos of goat meat, before …
She struggled to hold on to an upturned umbrella that did little to shelter her against the monsoon deluge. Skipping over puddles of rain water, she ran towards the covered porch of the Nagpada Neighborhood House. Wisps of her wet hair curled and formed spiral ringlets that fell delicately over her brow. Raindrops dripping down …
Her bedroom window opened to the view of the Mahatma Phule Municipal Gardens, an oasis of serenity amidst the cacophony of the bustling city. The park was dotted with beautiful gulmohar trees and bougainvillea vines and had a lush rose garden with an ornate water fountain in the middle that never seemed to work. Dusty …
Wasim sat anxiously outside the office of Mr. Prakash Parikh, a director at the Research and Development department of Cipla Pharmaceuticals. There were three other young men in the waiting area, presumably after the same entry level position as a research assistant. There was a peon in a khaki dress, sitting on a stool outside …
She had finished her breakfast and was flipping through the pages of the Urdu daily, Inquilab. She liked to read about world events and local politics and opinions on religion and about the scandals of the rich and famous, the film stars. It had been a while since she has last seen a movie. She …
He watched the toast change color and become moist as it soaked up the tea, and just before it turned into a sloshy mess, he deftly pulled it out from the cup and slipped it into his mouth. He enjoyed these simple pleasures: the warmth of the tea, the little crunch still left in the …
The boys stood in a straight line facing her. She held the note she had received from their school and shook it in front of their faces. “What is this?” she demanded. Mahroof stared back at her defiantly. The swagger and confidence with which he carried himself, belied his fifteen years of age. He was …
Zanu, born Janardan Prabhudev Parikar, in the small but picturesque village of Shigra, was a long way from home. Having lost his mother when he was only four to tuberculosis and his father to alcoholism years earlier, he had had a difficult childhood. His two elder sisters took care of him till he was eight …