She was an old woman, a regular visitor with a pot tucked beneath her arm and another balanced on her head. A dusky skin clung to the few remaining bones that aging had spared. A white saree brushed her knees, while her walking stick carried a hunch much like her weary back. Her shrill voice Read more…

The empty streets were patient that night. The hurried feet of day had disappeared, and the old bends of the road seemed to wait— as if they knew someone like me would eventually return. April had been cruel again. The thunderstorms came and went, yet even they failed to disturb the stubborn calm of those Read more…

There was a knock. Soft — like someone unsure if they should be there. When I opened the door, she stood beneath the dim sky.