INDImag – Contemporary fiction | Motivational short stories | Social stories | Short story criticism

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People scare you.
People dare you.
People who think,
They know everything.
The experienced,
The seasoned,
They know everything

Public speaking is considered the greatest fear a person can have, even greater than the fear of death. However research shows that a significant factor in people being promoted at work is the ability to express one’s self in public or at a meeting, concisely and effectively, no matter how large the gathering. Like all mothers my mother dreamed about me having a successful career right from my childhood.

The Tiny Weed stood clinging precariously to the barren rocks. Its leaves were carefully painted a beautiful green with the little moisture its tiny roots could gather from the surroundings. There was something about the Tiny Weed standing proudly against the grey barrenness of the rocks that caught the eye of the passing Dark Gray Cloud. It sent down a gentle shower. The Tiny Weed looked up in surprise.

My memories of my existence starts at a little house in an area called Malleshwaram in Bangalore. The house had a small verandah, a smaller bedroom and a still smaller kitchen and of course a bathroom and a toilet. It was way back in the early 1980s and the concept of combined toilet and bathroom was yet to become popular.

Rahul was anxiously drumming on the dinner table of some hotel. His irritated friends asked him to stop the umpteenth time. Rahul looked at the black screen of his cell phone. No SMS or call yet from her. Whatever is taking so long.

They say “Some people are born great, some people become great, some people have greatness thrust upon them” Similarly some people are born hunch backs like the Quasimodo of ‘Hunchback of Notre dame’. Others through their exertions, taking greater and greater loads on their back, instead of achieving greatness, end up with broken backs. Still others get this backs broken for no fault of theirs. The hunchback in my story belongs to the third kind.

Miss Florentine walked on to the stage waving her hand and flashing a perfect set of whites.

Crowd cheered her with hoots and whistles, for the magician had not lied about her beauty.

The old man murmured to himself, “Golden dress. Lots of shimmer. The hemline barely reaches the thighs.
Good choice.
No one would take their eyes off her as long as she’s on stage. Perfect diversion.”

“Madam, you are not buying lottery ticket today?” Gopal the lottery seller’s question brought her back to reality. As usual, Gopal was there at the bus stand with his board full of lottery tickets. Three days a week Veena allowed herself to spend money on buying them.

Raksha. This one name is the sole reason I still find life worth living. Raksha. The very name lifts up spirits, from the insides. I’ve seen many girls during my college days, some with a beautiful face and some with a beautiful heart. Indeed, beauty is one virtue every adolescent wants to possess. Be it be with him or within him. The first time I saw Raksha, I wanted her beauty to be with me. Raksha, the one word equivalent for beauty, beauty from the eyes of God.

Sameer’s gushing manner hadn’t changed a whit. Anand didn’t even realize that the torrent of words had swept him out of the railway station to a nearby cafeteria. He had forgotten his appointment. Slowly the whirlpool of conversation settled. Most of the information regarding mutual friends exchanged, Anand almost reverentially asked the question that had been hovering in his mind.

“Where’s Tina?”