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Author on Reedsy Prompts since Mar, 2021
Shortlisted for Contest #230 ⭐️
When faced with a fork, look for the twig.We had missed the twig and were staring down a deep chasm. It didn’t help that we were not talking to each other. After the boisterous cultural evening put up by fellow campers, we had fought over which bottle to drink water from, back in our tent. Our sabre-rattling was loud enough for other campers to give me extra sweet smiles at breakfast. Trekking was not something we had done before in our twenty years of marriage. It was supposed to be an exercise in bonding after our only child left for ...
Shortlisted for Contest #227 ⭐️
I remember the foggy morning I had clothed you in a cyan co-ord set, handed you over to the conductor of the preschool bus, and waved goodbye as you struggled not to cry. I came back home and cried over a cup of coffee. It was the first week of you starting school and it took me a while to get used to an empty home till you returned at noon. Your Pops and I stand with you near the campus cafeteria after breakfast; you with a moustache that has still not seen its first shave and a face a little less transparent than it was all those years ago...
Shortlisted for Contest #218 ⭐️
CW: Racism, Religious fervor Is that the perfume gifted by your captors who snatched you away from your kingdom that’s wafting in the air, my darling boy? It stinks and smells worse than your uncle’s blood splattered on your face even as you watched in horror: a 7-year-old Maharaja robbed of his wazir and his regent mother robbed of her brother. It’s been 13 years since we breathed the same air, stood under the same roof, and spoke a word of endearment in person. It’s a pity we are not standing on the soil of Lahore from where you were rip...
Submitted to Contest #215
When my gait freezes, I gently kick the trash can. What wouldn’t I give to trash all these dementors hovering around my foggy brain. But now, that is not important. Kicking the empty plastic trash can is. Whatever little tension my frayed nerves can conjure must be directed at it. It is my only hope against falling on the floor and breaking my teeth. Or bones. Again. The trash can is my shining Patronus. I try to summon the warmth of the morning sun on my back. And the squirrels that roll around the trees on the campus as I walk on crisp w...
Submitted to Contest #198
For as long as she could remember, tendrils, peacocks, and rangolis ran amok in Suchi’s head. And leaped out at her notebooks. The public school she went to, close to her village, had half its teaching staff getting replaced every year. And given its proximity to the military cantonment, half its students got refreshed every year. Not that any of it mattered to Suchi. She had learned the art of becoming invisible by sandwiching herself between eager-beaver-answer-giver-oh-I’m-so-clever and I-care-two-hoots-for-your-chalk-and-talk-lady! briga...
Submitted to Contest #193
Once upon a time, in the dense forests of Western Ghats, there lived a grey langur, Giria.Giria lived with his troop. He had just been weaned off from his Ma. And was still learning to use his tail to balance himself.One summer evening, as he tore the tender green leaves from the jamun tree and chewed them with his eyes closed, and dreamt of a paradise where he could sit on a tree throne and be offered the succulent leaves on a platter, he was jolted by screechy alarms from his family. He too joined them and made a feeble sound. But wasn’t q...
Submitted to Contest #191
I tilt the bucket and scoop out the last mug of water. Just warm enough to wash away the stubborn dirt sticking to your right toe from your barefoot walk in the garden with your Appa. I splash it at your toe, rub it, wrap you up like a croissant in your turkey towel, and carry you as you free your tiny arms and loop them around my neck. I place you on the bed where I have laid out your school uniform, baby lotion, baby cream, and comb. And give a final wipe to your underarms with the soggy towel as we both throw our heads back and giggle. Th...
Submitted to Contest #189
Unspoken Antagonist aka Unan should never be spoken to. But what shall a brilliant eleven-year-old do on a summer afternoon when his Mom is busy prepping the delicacies to be served at the house party that night? The mere anxiety of meeting the grown people with whom he should politely converse and little people with whom he is expected to play can stifle him and make him feel a kinship with the socially apathetic antagonist hidden in the game behind the monitor. And converse with him. With a few deft clicks on the mouse and keyboard. I had ...
Submitted to Contest #188
Akhila slid through the grate. Into what used to be a storm drain. Before the big outbreak. A musty dampness enveloped her. She flicked her headlamp on. If she were lucky, she could harvest enough contraband to get Neel and herself real food till the next full moon. She didn’t count herself among the lucky though. Lucky were those who had fortified themselves across the River just after the big outbreak. Or the families that had perished together. She hobbled through a pile of rubble. She might be the first one to be there in a while. She h...
Submitted to Contest #187
Meow, I’m Leo, a Maine Coon. From Cochin. Don’t be confused. Just know that I’m a white-brown king living with a brown bloke in a red brick house.There are two other furballs around. I presume they were brought home before me as an experiment. They are little round Persian cats. Again, from Cochin.Still confused? I assume you are one of those losers who just giggle and go aww… at our viral videos but don’t bother to look up our history. If so, just get off my story! I don’t want to do anything with someone with zero curiosity.I’ll give you a...
Submitted to Contest #186
CW: LanguageReverse the mini truck. Wedge it between A4 and the parking ramp. Tease the stacked crates. Lay them out. Fresh oranges, spinach, and coriander. Day-old beans, cucumber, and cauliflower. Many days old onion, yam, and the rest. Set up digital scales. On the steel table. Punch in the day’s rates. Set the register. Put up QR code signages. Go pee in the common toilet. Check your teeth. Come back to the cold table. Check the messages on the cell. Play a couple of videos. Lean on the wall. Leave the right shoe imprint.People trickle o...
Shortlisted for Contest #185 ⭐️
I land in the new pod like a feather. Softly. After gathering stardust, air bubbles, and dirt on my way. At my core, yet tightening like a coil, are memories of me; gathering, entering and ejecting from the pod, a million times before this.I know it is only a matter of weeks before my mind begins to form and the memories from before get pressed against its wall. Deep into the subconscious. The way to which will be heavily guarded afterwards. With that, I will forever lose access to the lifetimes I roamed on this mud ball.My new mind will not...
Submitted to Contest #184
Day 5 There are countless tea shrubs lurking outside. Each one, a half-painted face of a Kathakali dancer, ready to ensnare me with their eye movements. So, I don’t dare to stare through the window from my four-poster bed. Instead, I glaze at the elaborate carvings on the wooden ceiling; giant chocolate squares sprinkled with golden blobs. My stomach growls but I have no appetite.For how long have I been lying here?Days? Months? Years!?No, it can’t be years, silly me! Though the gossamer ball gown on me belongs to another age. Am I the young...
Submitted to Contest #182
CW: Domestic violence, Child abuse I set the date. And get to work. I pack two lunches. Put one in my bag and leave the other on the wobbly table next to the stove. I don’t bother to wake him up on a Monday morning. If he is too hungover to make it to work on time, it’s on him. I lock the door and hop over the puddle bordered by soapsuds. My neighbour is crushing her laundry on a slab of stone a few feet away. I lower my head and scoot down the alley before she looks at me. She hurls, “What a racket last night. Is he dead yet!!” at my back. ...
Shortlisted for Contest #179 ⭐️
Like a camphor box closed with a cracked lid. That’s how I feel right now. An amorphous lump at the core.There are strangers in the living room. They have not stopped coming since morning. Brother is dealing with them. All I care about is our baby in my arms.“Men from the plains are nothing but trouble,” Ma had warned me while she combed my hair.“Even the ones in uniform, like Brother?” I had countered.“Especially the ones in uniform,” she had pulled my hair tight and tied it into a bun.It didn’t stop me from offering you red tea when my bro...
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