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

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The one-horse town of Chikkulli in South India had nothing much to speak for itself. Dusty lanes and streets crammed a few shops selling house-hold amenities and the usual stuff. The town had an old temple on the outskirts and an equally rambling church. The people were mostly tradesmen and farmers with lands on the outskirts of the town.

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.

The other day I came across a mail I received about the Tao of Forgiveness. While going through it my thoughts drifted back 39 years through time, to the days just after the Indo-Pak war of 1971. My unit had returned to Ferozepur from our operational area and we were in the process of settling [...]

A inspirational short story about a man’s introspection, epiphany at the gates..

She hurriedly stirred the vegetables once and went back to chopping more onions. One needed lots of onions to be sliced finely, fried to a golden brown and sprinkled on top of the potatoes. It added that special flavor. And today of all days she desired the special flavor to be there.

For the first time since morning, I lifted my head to see the sun setting. The sky looked like blood spilled over a canvas. It was a lovely sight. I prayed to God, to forgive me for what I was about to do. I looked down at the muddy ground. I prayed to mother earth, to give me the strength for what I was planning to do. It was the only end to all my fears. It was inevitable.

The argument continued, spoiling the mood of a much-awaited week end. Both, the Male and the Female were sitting in their dim lit hall room – their mood and the ambience, somehow concurred.

A tale of a pious grandmother, her three grandsons and a black cat.

The streets of Rajura were empty except for the occasional coal miner scurrying for shelter before it poured. I ducked into the nearest Wine Bar and occupied the first empty table. In our area all bars are named ‘xyz Wine Bar’ even though they never keep any wine. All forms of liquor are called wine..

In the village of Holudpukur, five miles from the closest haat at Burrabazaar and ten times that distance from the town of Purulia lived Shri Haragobind Tripathy. Tripathy remained the most unyielding custodian of the village; the first man to seek out if there was any trouble and the last man to return home after having dealt with the crisis at hand and putting it firmly to rest ..