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

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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 first time she spoke a word, it didn’t even occur to me to record it or write it down. Her first word could have been anything. I don’t know and never will. The reason being at the precise moment my other one was screaming, ‘Mummy! Help me!’

On a moonlit summer night plunged into darkness by a power cut, our family of 5 sat for a ‘candle light’ dinner. In Rajiv Gandhi’s banana republic, talk was cheap and we spared no expense or effort and every dog had it’s say …

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.

vestige of the richer, brighter golden it must have been before. The sofa is placed such that I’m seated with my back to the entrance door. “Weird!” I thought but I figured it must be their idea of making space for all their furniture.

“So you’re telling me that olives can protect you from evil?” asked Jassim, his tone revealing his disbelief. Maryam nodded her head vigorously. “That’s what Grandmother used to say, wasn’t it? She said that if there was an olive tree outside our house, angels would guard us from all harm. And that whenever we were frightened, all we had to do was hold a handful of olives in our right hand. You heard her say all this, didn’t you?”

A Dream, A medal and some Tears

All these cappuccinos are so generic in taste thought Shashi, with disappointment, as she waited at the visitors’ lounge of the international arrivals terminal of the DFW airport. Waiting was never Shashi’s forte. Her impatience showed in small gestures like crossing and uncrossing of her legs, her periodic investigation into her handbag contents and frequent pursing of her lips with a frown.

Cock-a-doodle-doo..Cock-a-doodle-doooo…cock-a-doodle-doooooo…”damn my alarm!!”Snrrr..Snrrr… now what’s wrong with it? Oh no! It’s not the alarm; it’s my brother snoring loudly! For a minute, I thought I was in a lion’s den.

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