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A counting kid - short story

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A counting kid: “Kowshik, have you done the home work?” the teacher had questioned. “No miss, I haven’t….I couldn’t understand this maths….It’s very tough,” Kowshik complained.  He stood up behind the third row of the table and his small hands were folded primly before his chest, as he looked up the miss in a nonchalant manner.  “You are always my headache in this class.  I don’t know why are you behaving like this? Oh God, what to do with this poor little fellow, he always eating my energy,” she said and held her right hand over her head.  She looked taller, younger and slimmer.  She wore a green sari with orange border. “Sorry miss, what to do, you are not teaching properly to make me understand,” the little boy said sternly, as if he was accusing her in front of the judge. “You…come here…how dare you to tell me that I won’t teach well, eh,” she was anguished.  Ferocious sparkles had roused from her eyes.  Her face was reddened like burning coal. “I won’t….I won’t
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A eerie necklace - short story

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A eerie necklace: “Sarala, how is your son studying?” Ramya said, she was folding the dried clothes.  Both were sitting on the couch and watching the TV, a tamil serial was running in it.  They lived in an eight floor apartment in the center of the clustered and bustling Chennai city. “No, Ramya.  He is very dull and not getting good marks.  Last week I and my husband went to the parents meeting in school.  You know what happened? The principal called Kowsalya’s son to his room and said ‘your son should learn from this boy’.  I was shocked,” Sarala said.  She was a clerk in the private bank in Nungambakkam and whenever she find a leisure time, she wanted to discuss the family matters with her neighborhood friend. “Why?” Ramya asked.  She suddenly lowered the white skirt she was holding in her hands.   “Because he is a dalit son, how could he become a topper in the class? I don’t know,” Sarala frowned and slapped her head twice with her left hand. “I tell you the reaso
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A merciful banker - short story

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A merciful banker: “Hi Manohar, what’s going on?” Kapil asked, stroking his pointy beard with his left hand.  He was looking fatter and taller, his waist size was large due to his inflated stomach, but looking younger and softer, might be in his mid-thirties. Manohar was busy in doing his office work and looked up from his seat and drew a face of comical and said, “Nothing, the same work and the same routine,” his lips puckered in a snarl.  Interestingly he had a big head and his lower body was thin and straight.  He had thick combed black mustache and withered face. In this bank office, he was called an indigent fellow, because he never wanted to go for weekend parties with his friends, he never wanted to go for costliest hotels to eat the Chinese and Eastern food items, he never wanted to go for big shopping malls to purchase branded shirts like Tommy Hilfiger or Lewis.  Manohar, are you a fool to live a life like a mendicant? “I don’t think so, you must be playing rumm
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Mother's love - short story

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Mother’s love: “Kanika, today you prepare Palak panneer and poori for lunch,” Raheal said.  He stood behind the kitchen door.  He was in medium height, had a rugged brown face, sturdy shoulders, and short cropped hair with no sideburns at all. Kanika slowed down the flame of the gas stove and turned to reply her husband, “Ok, but why poori for lunch?” she was quite bemused by his irregular request.  She was looking homely and beautiful in a simple green and purple salwar kameez. “Oh, that’s nothing.  My friend has been asking for it quite a long time.  He likes your food very much and he is very fond of poori.  That’s why,” Raheal grinned. Kanika was swooped up with innocuous pleasure for this unexpected way of her husband’s promptness.  This was the first grin he had rendered to her after their six months of marriage journey.  He had always ridiculed her for being novice and lack of worldly knowledge.  She was deeply frowned about this fact.  She had done her B.Sc (Compu
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Problems are the way to lead a successful life

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  Problems are the way to lead a successful life: Do you feel disappointed and drained of energy because you think you have plenty of problems to deal with?  Now take a deep breath and be calm.  That’s good.  The problems has comes to your life not because it wanted to devour the happiness from your life.  It is there only because it wants to grow you as a person.  Don’t you agree? What are you saying, silly?  How my problems could help me to grow?  You are talking crazy…. If these are the thoughts your mind keeps hurtling at you, then you must give it a try to encounter it.  Boy, a real thing about a problem is that a thin thought coming on back of your head without your nod or permission.  It’s like a thief coming and stealing your happiness.  Do you wanted to be so generous and unconcerned to give your pleasure to the unknown person who comes in the mask and rob your happiness?  That should be ridiculous, isn’t?  Yeah, of course it is.  So what should I do? S
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