If you enjoy reading short stories/series, I hope you will consider reading some of mine on this page. New uploads twice every month! I sincerely thank you for taking some time out to read some of my works and I hope to get better with time!
All Stories
Root RotJanuary 18, 202418 Jan, 2024
“The difference between the almost right word and the right word
is the difference between the lightning bug and the lightning”
Mark Twain
It always begins slowly. A word here, a phrase there, an emotion that’s hard to name, or even a comment that once held personal meaning. That’s how you start to lose your language, your mother tongue.
Arunita began noticing this around her 7th year of living in Canada. It was a rainy Sunday afternoon in Toronto, and she was nursing a cup of hot sweet milky tea when her thoughts turned to her thakuma and similar windy, rainy afternoons spent listening to her stories in their old North Kolkata house. Losing her parents at an early age never truly bothered her since she had her thakuma. Her one constant, her teacher, her mother, her father, and her center of the universe all culminated in this one human being, Bibhabari Devi, her grandmother.
Thakuma was always a force of nature. She was a Bengali language teacher at one of the premier Kolkata schools and was as vivacious as she was intelligent, but that’s not what Arunita was remembering now. She was thinking of how her thakuma’s eyes shone when she first recited ‘Birpurush’ at the age of 10 at the school function. She was thinking of the crisp, starched sarees that her thakuma used to wear, the Titan leather band watch on her right wrist, her long braided hair, and how she always smelled of Jui phool (Jasmine). Arunita thought back to the poem she recited, the one that made her thakuma so proud – ‘Birpurush’. She had always known the whole poem by heart and she settled deeper into her plush sofa on the 30th floor of her downtown condo, as she started reciting it again. The poem came to her clear and fast at the beginning, her voice rising and falling, her intonation perfect when she came to a sudden halt. It’s as if all the air was sucked out of her lungs, the memory of her grandma sitting in the front rows of the audience, listening to her with rapt attention, faded abruptly. Arunita realized with a start that she could not remember the next word. As she sorted through her confusion, she realized, it was not true. It’s not that she didn’t remember the word; she didn’t know the right word. What was it? What was covering the field (kise math chilo dheke)? Confused, she pulled out her phone and looked up the poem, and there it was, Chorkata. Startled, Arunita realized she no longer knew what the word meant anymore. She had a vague idea of what it was, but she had to google to remind herself. This one instance was not enough to concern her; she rarely got to use the language after her thakuma passed away 8 years ago, and she sold off everything back home and came to Canada to start fresh. Arunita read the poem one final time and put her phone away. No time for this now; she had a high-profile job at one of the Top 5 banks and needed to prepare for a big presentation tomorrow.
A part of Arunita held on to that episode, though. When she had the time, she tried to think in her mother tongue. That’s when she realized words that used to be second nature to her now felt beyond reach. As if a veil had been drawn over them and now they remain shrouded in mist and vapor, somewhere in the corner of her mind. While the realization bothered Arunita, she wasn’t too concerned. I mean, when is she ever going to need to use Bengali anymore? It’s a part of her life that she has left behind, something that only serves as distant memories now.
Arunita hates house parties. Her new boss turned out to be a second-generation immigrant, and she insisted on bringing you over to her place for Bijoya. The party was bustling with people from diverse backgrounds, but Arunita found herself struggling to connect with the conversations around her. The sound of laughter and clinking glasses filled the air as she stood by the window, gazing at the city lights below. Her mind wandered back to that rainy Sunday afternoon in Toronto, to the memory of reciting ‘Birpurush,’ and the disconcerting realization that some words had slipped away from her grasp. Arunita tried to push the thoughts aside, reminding herself of the presentation she needed to prepare for the next day. However, a part of her remained unsettled, yearning to reclaim those fragments of her mother tongue that seemed to elude her. As the party continued, she decided to take a break and stepped out onto the balcony.
As Arunita stood on the balcony, Anika’s warm conversation still resonating, a sudden hush fell over the night. An elderly woman slowly approached, her eyes twinkling with a hint of recognition. Anika smiled and introduced her as her great-grandmother, Sarojini Devi, who had recently arrived for a visit from India. Sarojini Devi’s face lit up with nostalgia as she spoke about her youth in Kolkata. Anika shared that her great-grandmother once had a dear Bengali friend, Amrita, whom she had to bid farewell to when she left India. The two friends had promised to stay in touch, but life’s twists and turns had made it challenging. As Anika translated the conversation for Arunita, Sarojini Devi’s eyes gleamed with hope. Eager to reconnect with the essence of her past, she turned to Arunita and began speaking in Bengali, the language she had shared with Amrita. Arunita felt a mix of emotions—honoured to be part of this intergenerational encounter yet uneasy as the Bengali words echoed in her ears. The struggle to carry the conversation became apparent as Sarojini Devi spoke with a fluency that seemed elusive to Arunita. The elderly woman’s words were laden with emotion, recounting tales of friendship, shared laughter, and the cultural nuances that bound them together. Arunita tried her best to respond, grasping at the fragments of her mother tongue that had slipped away. The once-familiar words now felt like distant echoes, lost in the chasm of time and distance.
In the years that followed, Arunita’s struggle with her mother tongue intensified. The veil over her words thickened, and the mist that shrouded her memories seemed impenetrable. No matter how hard she tried, the words slipped away like sand through her fingers. The attempt to reconnect with her roots only highlighted the stark reality—her language, once second nature, had slipped away irreversibly. As Arunita continued to navigate her high-profile job and busy city life, the remnants of her mother tongue became elusive fragments, lost in the cacophony of a foreign world. The occasional attempts to think in Bengali resulted in frustration and a growing sense of isolation. The once-vibrant connection to her cultural identity faded, leaving behind a void that no amount of effort could fill. In the end, the mist and vapour that had veiled her language solidified into an impenetrable barrier. Arunita, despite her best intentions, found herself severed from the linguistic ties that once bound her to her heritage. The language of her thakuma, the poetry of ‘Birpurush,’ and the scent of Jui phool—all faded into echoes of a distant past. Her mother tongue, once a vibrant part of her existence, became a silent casualty of time and distance, lost in the whirlwind of a life that no longer echoed with the cadence of Bengali words. […]
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The ‘Evil’ Queen – All hail the QueenFebruary 14, 2023The Beginning
An overwhelming feeling of purpose washed through Grimhilde as she stared at her reflection in the gilded mirror. In this place of shadow and simmering power, this mirror was the link that kept her tied to the ‘being’ that saved her in the forest. The mirror now served as a tool to summon the being when needed. She also suspected that it was there to monitor all her movements. When she was not standing in front of it, she had often glimpsed shadows curling around the edges and eyes spying on her. Grimhilde was under no illusion that this being was not helping her but that she was a pawn in a bigger game of his. She just hadn’t figured out what yet. Whether she wanted it or not, she was now linked to it through a bargain she had made.
She let her thoughts drift to the last few weeks here, with ‘it’. She had woken up her first day with a sense of rage and relief, determined to get revenge, but she had no clear path to how this would come about. Exploring the place showed her nothing. It was an endless space of corridors and rooms with no end in sight. Each room she opened, led her into the room that she had woken up in. No matter what she tried, she could not find a way in or out. Never did she find another living soul either. Her room had an adjoining bathroom with all necessary utilities and food showed up in the room at fixed hours. While none of the amenities or the food could be considered luxuries, they did the job. Her saviour and captor seemed to drift in and out at will. Leaving her alone most of the time and only coming back to ask her if she had made a plan or to mock her endlessly about her lack of direction, her naivety and even made crude remarks about her looks. Whenever it showed up, Grimhilde used the time to ask him all sorts of questions. He ignored most of them but what he answered showed her that there were limitations to what the creature could do. She had used this time to figure out a plan and learn more about the shadow being and its power. So far, she had figured out that its power seemed to lie mainly in mind manipulation and illusions. That meant that she could not ask him to kill the man who had betrayed her father and her or raise an army. Now, she was finally ready to share her plans with him. Taking a deep breath, she said to the mirror
Mirror, Mirror on the wall… come aid me in bringing about the Evil King’s downfall
The mirror seemed to come alive again. Grimhilde took a step back as liquid smoke, as dark as the moonless night poured out of the mirror. Within seconds it had morphed itself into the familiar form of her saviour.
‘Hello, princess. Have you finally been able to come up with a plan or is this another day where you waste my time?‘
Its voice grated against her nerves. She forced down a shiver as she said, ‘I have a plan! I need you to make me the fairest in all the lands.‘
What followed next was a few years of amassing riches by hoodwinking all suitors. The more unattainable she became, the more people vied for her attention. Showering her with gifts of precious jewels, luxurious fabrics, servants, houses to no avail. Grimhilde knew that these men, though rich and powerful, did not serve her purpose. They would not be able to exact the revenge she has been nursing in her heart since her betrothed had humiliated her and killed her father. She needed more, she had to be patient. She used this time to hone her craft. Learning how to lie and manipulate men to her own advantage. Any man who came too close to her and started to become a nuisance suddenly fell violently ill and either passed or died in their sleep. By the end of the year, news reached Grimhilde’s ears that her enemy had borne a son. It was time for the next step of her plan. She was ready! She set her mark on King Leopold, the richest of the Kings, with the most land, the most power and the most vulnerable.
The King had just lost his wife during childbirth and the kingdom needed a queen. The Queen’s death had broken the King and he spent his days mourning his wife. He lost all interest in his duties and it had started to affect the royal household and the kingdom. It was obvious that the kingdom needed a queen and the King needed a companion to bring him out of his grief-fueled stupor. They made various attempts at bringing in suitable matches for the king. A host of possible matches were considered. Princesses, Scholars, and Daughters of rich merchants, but the King refused them all. It was during this time that the tales of Grimhilde’s unparalleled beauty and sharp wit reached the. Such was her beauty that it had reached the ears of the courtiers of King Leopold. After much deliberation, the courtiers decided to arrange a feast to celebrate the birth of the princess and invited all the eligible maidens in the land including Grimhilde.
The night of the feast, Grimhilde dressed in an opulent silk dress the colour of midnight rain. She looked at the mirror and there, staring back at her was her old plain face. The ‘being’ had given everyone the privilege of looking at the most beautiful woman when they looked at her but in his cruelty, he had not granted her that satisfaction. The satisfaction of seeing her own beauty. She still saw the same old face she always saw, her face, plain, simple, forgettable, unlovable. It served as a constant reminder that this was all an illusion, she wasn’t really with a friend, none of this was real and if she defied or denied her ‘saviour’, it would all disappear in a flash. She sometimes wondered whose game she was playing, her own or its?
She walked down the aisle, with no real power, no land, no army, and she walked out with a Queen with the most powerful King at her side, and all the power she would need to bring down her old lover.
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It’s snowing againJanuary 10, 2023Dec 12th, 2022
It’s snowing again.
Amanda had just finished her work at her Toronto downtown office and was getting ready to leave when she noticed it was snowing again. It wasn’t very surprising since it was December, but it still caught her off guard. This was the first time she had left her apartment in months. She had only left her house to make the journey into the office after she had checked the weather repeatedly to ensure there was no possibility of snow. She walked over to the big glass office windows and stared at the city outside. The fresh snow fell fast and quietly outside as it slowly covered the city in a blanket of white. How had she not seen this before? Was the meeting really that interesting that she forgot to look out the window? No, not really, Amanda distinctly remembers being bored, anxious and distracted. But, that’s who she has been for a while now.
Ever since the accident last winter, she has found herself anxious, on edge and constantly distracted. She doesn’t like to talk about it but she remembers every detail of the accident. She was driving up to her parent’s house from a Christmas party and she was quite tipsy. The city had seen snow flurries all day and it had turned into a significant snowfall as she got behind the wheels. In hindsight, Amanda thought ruefully, that was not the smartest decision. She can still see it happen as if she was not in the accident but a bystander, witnessing the whole scene unfold. She ran a red light, realized it too late and slammed the brakes. The car immediately spun out of control and after a couple of spins, rammed into the wall. Before passing out, she saw him. A man in a red parka pinned between her car and the wall.
Her father was an influential man and had taken care of everything so she did not even have to appear in court or had any charges laid against her. Turns out, it was a homeless man and there were no witnesses, so it wasn’t hard for her dad to dig her out of the mess and that’s all Amanda ever found out about the man, not that she wanted to find out more.
The memory always upsets Amanda, though she can’t figure out if it’s the trauma or the lack of guilt she feels about the life lost. She pulled on her parka, grabbed her bag and headed for the elevator. She was lost in her thoughts again when she reached the subway station and only realized where she was when someone bumped hard into her. The guy that ran into her had immediately launched into a volley of apologies and general ‘are you okay’ questions, when she looked up to face him. As she is assuring the guy that she is totally fine when she catches someone out of the corner of her eye. Her breath caught for a second as she spied the familiar tall, slim, red parka-clad figure across the street. But just as quickly as she had seen him, he was gone. Confused, she turned her attention to the guy he knocked into and noticed that he was looking at her with a mixed look of concern and amusement. His body language told Amanda that he was expecting an answer from her but she had no clue where the brief encounter had gone. She hemmed and hawed out a quick apology and ran past him, through the subway entrance, stopping only when she had reached the platform.
The man in the red parka was still on her mind when she walked into her apartment. The snow stopped as she was walking home from her subway stop and that made her feel less anxious. She went through her usual evening routine and as she settled into her chair by the window with a book, she saw the man with the red parka again, standing on the busy snow-filled sidewalk, looking up at her window, at her! Amanda’s mouth went dry, she sat frozen stiff in fear as they both looked at each other. The seconds stretched into minutes as they stared at each other, no one moving an inch. Somewhere a distant but urgent thought kept echoing in her head. Her instincts told her to pay attention to that repeated thought and she jolted back to her senses. The thought had all but consumed every other musing in her head. It screamed into her consciousness, ‘Someone’s watching me!’. As that notion hits her, she immediately looks away from the man in the red parka to find her phone. She had to call someone, anyone, to let them know what was happening. How unsafe she felt! As she located her phone in the folds of the blanket she had on her lap, she glanced at the window to see if the man was still there but to her surprise, he was gone! Vanished into thin air in a matter of seconds, like the first snowflakes falling on asphalt. As she stared out, in disbelief, she noticed something.
It was snowing again.
Dec 18th, 2022
The doctor’s appointment could not be avoided. Amanda had already had a major heart attack when she had the accident and since then she had been on medication to help heal her weakened heart. After a thorough checkup, Dr. Rizvi finally met her with the reports in his office. He did not look too happy. Amanda braced for the news.
After an hour with Dr. Rizvi, Amanda’s head was swimming with all sorts of thoughts. Apparently, her recovery was not going as well as they had hoped. Her heart was still quite weak so she will have to go on new medications. Which means more restrictions and possible side effects. This was definitely not the news she had hoped for.
The red parka again! As she exited the doctor’s office, she spotted the figure standing behind the nearest pillar. The shock of seeing him again made her stumble and she hurtled down the flight of stairs in front of the building, landing in a heap at the bottom, thoroughly embarrassed and a little hurt. She quickly picked herself off the side of the road, her new coat now dirty with the slushy salt and snow of the pavement. Thankfully, there weren’t too many people around so she was spared the horror or niceties after that fall. Amanda turned around to see if she could find the guy in the red parka but he was nowhere to be seen, again! Her heart hammering in her chest, she abruptly realized; it was snowing again.
Dec 24th, 2022
Amanda tried to convince herself that she was just being paranoid as she rode the uber to her parent’s house in Aurora. There have been no signs or sightings of the parka-clad guy since the little episode in front of her doctor’s office.No sign of him all day but Amanda can’t shake the feeling of being watched. A tendril of fear, like a live wire, snaked down her spine the past few days, which has her cautiously checking out every dark corner and jumping at every sound.
Once she reaches her childhood home, she stamps down that feeling and resolves to fully immerse herself in the festivities. The day passes quickly in the company of her family. Her Brother Adam and his wife Emelia had flown in from San Francisco and her little sister Rachel had already been there for the entire week as her University had closed for the holidays. The food, drinks and Christmas traditions had almost completely driven out her thoughts about the red-parka-clad guy.
As she crawled into bed, exhausted but content with how the day went, she could feel a thin veil of dread threatening to cover her again. Fatigue seemed to have seeped into her bones and she fell into a deep dreamless sleep.
Suddenly she is awake. Someone is crawling into bed with her. She smiles groggily as she thinks it’s Rachel, crawling into her bed in the middle of the night, just like she used to when they were kids. A hand snakes across her torso and holds her tight. Even in her sleepy state, something about this feels odd and then she feels it…the figure, hugging her in bed right now is too big to be Rachel. Fear and panic rush through Amanda as she realizes that this person is wearing something like a coat. She can feel the material through the old tee she wore to bed. Even as she picks up her duvet to take a look at the hand across her, she knows what she will be seeing. A hand in a red parka!
Paralyzing terror consumes Amanda. She tries to yell but her voice is gone. She tries to will her body to move, tear free from the grip but she is unable to move. The arm across her is getting increasingly tighter across her chest, and she hears him over her own pounding heart, “It’s snowing again!”
Outside, the snow was falling, fast, quiet, and beautiful.
Root Rot […]
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The ‘Evil’ Queen – A Snow White retellingOctober 20, 2022We are familiar with the fairytale ‘Snow White and the Seven Dwarves’. While this story upholds the usual trope of ‘good triumphs over evil’, I always felt this was an incomplete depiction.
For the unaware, there exists a space on the internet where we explore the other side. The ‘losing’ side. No one focuses on their stories in fairytales, but I feel that their story deserves to be told. This is not to defend them but wouldn’t we want our sides of the story to be out into the world before people brand us as the ultimate ‘Evil’?
This is my attempt at exploring the other side of the story. This is ‘The Evil Queen – A Snow White retelling’.
Series Schedule
The Beginning – Published on 20th Jan 2023
All hail the Queen – Coming on 17th Feb 2023
Bittersweet – Coming on 17th March 2023
All hail the Queen
The Beginning
The Bittersweet End
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