AnuKathaa

The prompt for June's story was "It Didn't Work" and the word count, 1800 words. I left the writing of the story for the-hour-after-the last-minute and so, had to really rush through the process at breakneck speed. I'm still a little dazed as I wait for it to get approved and go up on the 12 Short Stories website (the South Africa-based writing group which I'm a part of). In the meantime, I'm posting the story here for your reading pleasure, dear readers, and I'll be waiting, as always, to hear your thoughts! Madhu stepped into the dark room and gingerly picked her way towards the low bed in the corner. A musty smell assailed her at once. Switching on the light, Madhu saw the stink came from Ma’s clothes lying under the bed. Picking up the offending pile, she dumped it into a cane basket nearby. She’d wash them later.  Unbidden came the resentment at having one more task added to her already busy day. Fast on its heels came a sense of co...

My fifth short story of the year.  Prompt: Stale               Word count: 1200 words “I expected better work from you, Priya.” “What’s wrong with this piece, Rana? I remember you clearly told me to focus on the struggles of entrepreneurs.” “Yes, I did, but your piece doesn’t convey the ‘struggle’ bit at all!” “Humph! That means you probably didn’t read through the entire story! Look at paragraphs 2 and 3, where I describe the difficulties this guy went through and how he learned to cope with..” “That’s exactly my point, Priya! Where’s the guy’s angst? Why isn’t he railing against the system? Why isn’t he blaming the competition? Why is he such a good guy and ‘learning to cope’, Priya? How many times must I tell you – drama and anger are the only emotions that send circulation figures soaring!” “I don’t remember being taught that in journalism school.” “Life isn’t journalism school, Priya. It’s real. No idealism, only the grim r...

Prompt: Agenda                           Word count: 750 “Ma’am, I want to talk to you about something,” says my student Seema, standing at the staffroom door. We walk to the empty lab next door, and she spills the beans. Thankfully, it’s not as complex as I anticipated – some miscommunication with the office regarding her exam application. Seema wants me to intervene as her requests have fallen on deaf ears. Wondering for the umpteenth time at the student grapevine that drives kids with problems to our staffroom, I walk to the office, and talk to the concerned person. She’s not too happy with my involvement but can’t refuse a teacher, so she agrees to look into the problem. Two days later, Seema is back. The problem hasn’t been resolved yet. I go again and talk to the office assistant, insisting she look into the matter at once. I tell Seema to follow the matter up and let me know what happens. A few days later, I ...

Amar stumbled on the last step of the staircase. Thankfully, he hadn’t let go of his hold on the handrail, and so, there wasn’t any harm done. “Come on,” he chided himself, “You’ve dealt with bigger problems during your office days. This is nothing! Just your ego being hurt a little. Chin up.” In all our lives, sooner or later, there comes a turning point. We change, and then, we can never return to what we were before. For Amar, that point had come this morning. He’d been sitting in the mild morning sun, leisurely turning the newspaper page, sipping his second cup of coffee, when he saw his wife Lata shaking with laughter, looking at something on her phone. “What’s so funny, dear?” he’d asked, not realizing what was in store for him. “Hahaha, nothing really! It’s only this message on our apartment ladies group that sounds so very apt. Just one of our little jokes!” “Quite a joke it must be to make you laugh like that! Tell me, what it says,” he’d insisted; foolishly, as it now turne...

The second short story of the year. The theme was "For Hire". Word Count: 1000. I tried adding in a picture of Srinathji, but there seems to be some problem with loading images on the blog. To see the picture, go to this link  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Shrinathji#/media/File:Sri_nathji.jpg As usual, waiting to know your thoughts on the story!  The loud and urgent knocking on the door reverberated through the small house, startling Meena. As she opened the door, she was even more stupefied seeing the terror-stricken face of her husband Nathuram. “Lord Srinatha, You alone can save me now!” cried Nathuram, as he rushed in and collapsed to a sitting position on the floor, leaning against the wall. “What happened, ji? Why are you so distraught?” “It’s all your fault, Meena! Oh God, what will happen to me now!” wailed Nathuram. Meena’s face fell. She was used to her husband’s caustic tongue, which always found fault with her. Yet, she had never seen him so full of des...

After a hiatus of close to a year, I'm back to writing short stories. This month's prompt: Coalition. Word count: 1200 words exactly. For the umpteenth time, I wonder why I even agreed to come here. For the umpteenth time, I struggle to curb my mind that says, “Because you’re running away...” I step off the train and make my way out with the crowd exiting the Kalburgi railway station. Hugging myself against the early morning chill, I enter the mini-bus that’s going towards the hotel booked for my stay in this small town. The bus isn’t very crowded. It’s a small town, after all. I listen to my co-passengers talk. Simple people, simple lives. But no matter where you live, human life does seem to be the same, with the all-too-familiar pains and the only too rare, occasional joys. By 9 am, I’m in the waiting hall of the ESIC Medical College and Hospital which caters to the health needs of people in this rural belt. Dr. Kumar greets me with a firm handshake. “Good morning, Dr. Ra...

I had completely forgotten about the poetry challenge I'd agreed to under the 12 Poems in 12 months banner. I realized that just 12 hours before it was due for submission on 06-03-2019. I'm no poet and so, was really worried and for the first time, even considered giving up.  But then, inspiration struck, and here's what flowed out....this poem rhymes in some parts and doesn't in others. So, I think it's technically under the genre of Free Verse. According to the website Literary Devices, "Free verse is a literary device that can be defined as poetry that is free from limitations of regular meter or rhythm, and does not rhyme with fixed forms. Such poems are without rhythm and rhyme schemes, do not follow regular rhyme scheme rules, yet still provide artistic expression. In this way, the poet can give his own shape to a poem however he or she desires." Prompt: Red                               ...