Outside Shiv Mandir in Chittaranjan Park, New Delhi
I travel to Delhi tomorrow. After almost eight months of living away from the madness. And while I can’t claim Pune has been particularly sane, I have been away from the morning Metro rush, the honking cars outside my house, and the slight chill in the air that starts coming in this time of the year. But madness, really? This evening, randomly, I realize I have actually missed it all!
She should have sensed there was danger the moment the door creaked, but the winter afternoon was deceiving in its temperament.
He inched closer from behind, while she pored over her book, oblivious to the danger that lurked in her household in Delhi – the city her parents had warned her against.
He had no motive but cold blood, and sneered as he clasped the weapon, silently picked up from her kitchen, tightly in his palm.
Though horror-struck, she could not scream; the weapon was effective, painful and shock-inducing.
The wall, painted fresh an hour ago, now sported a large blob of tomato ketchup, emptied carefully from a sachet.
Her five-year old son had feet as sure and silent as a cat.
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Five Sentence Fiction is about packing a powerful punch in a tiny fist. Each week, Lillie McFerrin posts a one word inspiration, then anyone wishing to participate can write a five sentence story based on the prompt word. The word does not have to appear in the five sentences, and is just for direction. This week: FRESH.
Now every Friday on Saddi Delhi.
*Picture from amiquote.tumblr.com
There are people who kill for revenge and those who kill for being told to park their vehicle away from the gate.
Every time I switch on a news channel or refresh Google News on the internet, there are fresh reports of killings in this oh-so-beautiful New Year. To add insult to the injury, there are people who disguise their heinous acts under would-be “noble” causes: religion, honour, independence.
As I walked to office this morning, crossing the pebble laden lane that leads to the building, I was suddenly struck with the monotone life seems to have assumed. A long day at work and a subsequent return home – or ‘room’, with no one to go back to and the surety of the next day being much the same… sometimes it gets to you. In a new city, where the only people you know and talk to are your colleagues at work, it can get horribly lonely if there’s the slightest dent to those equations. A spat with someone, some bitter words, a handful of unexplained reactions and there, you have your spirits condemned to living hell. Pune, no matter how complete and pleasing a city, doesn’t offer me the solace that Delhi did. If I have to hear ‘Punneee ka Radio City… 91.1!” once more today, I am sure I will burst into tears.
Of Paneer, Pulao and Pune 