Dadima’s Stick: The first thing Govind and I noticed as Dadima (paternal grand-mother) came out through the glass doors of the Bombay airport in a wheelchair was the stick in her hand. Dadima had gone to Dubai for a short stay with Gopal Chacha (father’s younger brother). A week later, she had had a fall, and her artificial left hip …
Read More »The Neighbour: Short Story by Sigrun Srivastava
The mob came down the road; it came – a group of infuriated men – roaring; dancing; kicking; at everything in their way. The men cried, “Get them all! The cowards have to pay with their blood.” Many of them were drunk. They did not know what they were doing. The girl heard them come towards the house. She was …
Read More »Fight, Manju, Fight!: Sigrun Srivastav
Fight, Manju, Fight!: Sigrun Srivastav – Manjula Parelkar knew she was no Hussain. She could never be, not with those hands of hers, those claw-like malformed fingers, just two of them, two on each hand. Why her hands too? Wasn’t it enough that her feet were deformed; ending in two massive moon-shaped toes pointing at each other, the hard nails …
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