The New Year Resolution: A Miracle Unfolds (1350 words)

                             What the New Year brings will depend a great deal on                                                                        what you bring to the New Year.”

Veda and Rangan finished their dinner early. Their son and daughter were away at a New Year party at their cousin’s place in the adjacent complex. The couple was on the TV watching some programme that failed to grab their attention.

Rangan asked "Veda, have you thought of any New Year resolution? I know you will laugh when I say I have three ready for me. Maybe I have failed in the past to adhere to them but this year it would be different.”

“Hà ha, you and your resolutions!! The ones you resolve over booze, you forget the next day. Never mind, tell me what they are for the coming year. At least they reveal your intentions," Veda said with a giggle.

 “Mark this time. I am dead serious and do not intend to give up for they are important to me. I will tell you on the condition you will tell me yours."

"Ok, I am all ears.”

"Here they go. First, I wish to go with you on a long holiday that may include a Caribbean cruise and for this, I will be careful with the money and not splurge."

“This seems like two resolutions in one. Never mind. Very ambitious, what next?" she prodded"

“The second one would be to reduce drastically eating out and have healthy food made by you at home."

"Mmm, what is the last one?”

"The last is not to lose my temper as frequently as I do now and be a little more demonstrative in my love for you," he concluded."

“Funny, your resolutions are as impossible for you as weeding out corruption in our country,” Veda said with loud laughter.

“Can you be more specific than your usual vague ramblings?" he shouted.

"I mean, you are broke and poorer than a church mouse except for the paltry pittance you get each month as salary after all the deductions towards the various loans. Where is the money for a holiday even to nearby Pondicherry when we are finding it hard to make both ends meet? What Caribbean, are you daydreaming about? As regards the second portion of your first resolution, you are already a miser. What splurge are you talking about? When did you buy for me anything worthwhile for me to show my people with pride? When did we eat out really except for the pani puri on the roadside shops and alu tikias in the market? We have never gone for ages to a good Chinese, Mexican or Italian restaurant? All you take us to are the cheap joints with dirty cutlery and dirtier China with waiters in rags," Veda said contemptuously.

 "You filthy and ungrateful woman, don’t forget your roots. You were raised in a chawl and born in a poor family going to free municipal schools. Despite my parents' reluctance, I married you because I liked your face. I have given you everything that you would have never dreamt of. What cheek you have to call me a church mouse or a miser, you brat?" Rangan shouted.

"You have proved right now that you cannot control your mind or tongue and have already failed in your third resolution. I never expected any love from you, let alone the demonstrative part. I am a drudge in this house toiling out of a sense of duty,” Veda said and went away sobbing to the bedroom.

He switched off the TV, drank a glass of water and reclined on the sofa with closed eyes for a while before following her.

"Veda, sorry, I lost my wretched temper. I didn't mean to hurt you. I promise I will try my utmost to control myself, my dear. Please excuse me” he cringed.

 “It is ok. This is nothing new to me. Shall I make a cup of hot chocolate for you?" she asked.

"No, no. Please tell me what your resolutions are. I assure you that I would not make fun of you," he pleaded.

"My resolutions are more like prayers than any effort by me. I will pray daily for landing on a treasure trove that will fetch us enough money to send our bright children to Engineering or Medicine courses. The second one will be to curb my desires and expectations in day-to-day life. Thirdly, to do some voluntary work and help find resources for the orphanage from the rich," she said.

"The last one is admirable and the second one is always desirable. Only the treasure trove part seems farfetched. No harm in praying of course," he said as he patted her cheek.

"Enough now of the demonstrative part of your third resolution,” she said with a shy smile

Though an agnostic and never believed in miracles, he bought from December onwards each month one lottery ticket for about 50 rupees from state-run lotteries like Kerala or Sikkim. Though a non-believer, he thought this might facilitate the  Gods, whom Veda prays, to answer her prayers if they wished. He did not, however, divulge this to her.

The New Year came and Rangan was as short-tempered as he was, the outings continued to be few and far between. The much-expected annual rise in April also turned out to be meagre. Life was a dull routine. Six months had passed and he  started doubting the wisdom of spending on the lottery. As if in answer, he was surprised when his ticket won Rs 10,000 as the third or fourth prize. Though not a treasure trove, Veda and Rangan were jubilant and grateful for the small blessings. In deference to Veda’s wish, the entire money was put in a fixed deposit.

Life continued uneventfully for them even after their small lottery win. Though happy, he never really believed in miracles, and the daily grind of tight finances and unfulfilled dreams weighed on them both. Veda’s quiet hope for a windfall persisted along with her intense prayer. Much to the surprise of Veda, Rangan accompanied her to the temple these days and walked around the four corridors. Veda, though inwardly happy, wisely avoided talking about this change in him. 

He on his part decided to continue to buy the ticket every month. A few months later, when there was a festive occasion when big lottery schemes were announced, he bought for the first time on an impulse, a lottery priced at 500 Rs with prizes for several crores with a dozen tickets one in each series fetching one or two crores. He did not tell Veda this time too but his son who accompanied him to the bazaar was privy to this purchase and the ticket’s number.

The festival had come and gone. Rangan was on an official tour for a week. He had either not taken the ticket number with him or forgotten about the date of the declaration of results. His alert son who was in the bazaar found the results were out. He quietly noted down the winning numbers and rushed home. Back home, he was stunned to see his father’s ticket had won One Crore Rupees. While Veda ran to the puja room in utter disbelief, her son informed his father of the life-changing news. Rangan could hardly process what he heard as he was completely overwhelmed and in a daze. He complained of diarrhoea and returned home the next day.

 Veda greeted him with quiet joy and Rangan embraced her realizing this blessing was in answer to her prayers. Though not a religious man, he felt something shift within him. This win wasn’t just about money—it felt like a sign, something beyond chance.

When he accompanied Veda to the temple, without fully comprehending the power of faith, he felt once inside a newfound respect for the mysteries of life. Sitting beside her, he quietly admitted, “Maybe there’s more in prayer and faith than my foolish ego.”

Veda smiled. “Miracles find you when you least expect them if only you have unshakable faith,” she said softly.

For the first time, Rangan believed the truth in her words. The bell in the temple tolled loudly as if in agreement.

Karthik,Kausalya and Tantric (878 words)

Ever since Karthik met Kausalya in their Japanese class, he had fallen in love with her. She was a bubbly, extroverted girl, always pleasant when they talked. They became friends easily, meeting frequently over coffee since their offices were close by. He often called, chatted, and texted her, eventually confessing his love. Kausalya, however, made it clear that she didn’t feel the same way, though she liked him as a good friend. Karthik, undeterred, believed that with time and persistence, her feelings would change

Two years passed, and every time Karthik brought up the topic of marriage, Kausalya politely rebuffed him. Yet, Karthik remained hopeful, unable to imagine loving anyone else. It was then that his friend Shankar suggested a female tantric who, he claimed, could resolve such matters easily. Intrigued and desperate, Karthik found the address.

The place was a small shop selling incense sticks, religious books, pictures of gods, and other items used for prayer. At the counter sat a young woman with a large bindi on her forehead and a string of Tulsi beads around her neck. Unsure if he was in the right place, as there was no sign indicating her as a tantric, Karthik hesitated but finally asked.

“I am the tantric,” she smiled. “Tell me what you want from me.”

Karthik hesitated again—she seemed so young and attractive, which made him uncomfortable. But when prompted, he blurted out his story: his unrequited love for Kausalya and his desire for something, anything, that could make her love him.

“Can you give me an amulet or something that will make Kausalya fall in love with me?” he asked.

The tantric laughed softly and invited him into the inner room.

“What a strange and timid man you are,” she teased, “completely unfit to handle a woman’s heart.”

The room was dimly lit, with the scent of burning incense and camphor filling the air. An oil lamp flickered before images of gods. She took out a small yellow thread from a box and, after chanting prayers with her eyes closed for what seemed like a long time, finally opened them.

“Tie this thread around her right wrist on a Friday morning, after she’s bathed,” the tantric instructed. “Make sure you tie only one knot—no more. Tomorrow is Friday, so it’s perfect. You’ll notice a change in her immediately.”

Karthik asked how much this would cost.

“Whatever you feel is appropriate. You may leave it on the plate in front of the gods,” she said.

Excited, Karthik arranged to meet Kausalya the next morning at their usual coffee shop. When they met, he told her, “I got this sacred thread from a temple. Let me tie it on your wrist; it’s supposed to bring good luck and help in your career.”

As he tied the thread around her wrist, she complained that it was too loose and asked for another knot. Remembering the tantric’s warning, Karthik hesitated but eventually gave in. Then, she insisted on a third knot, and though reluctant, he complied.

The moment the third knot was tied, Kausalya’s expression changed. Her eyes lit up, and without warning, she hugged Karthik tightly, rubbing her face against his. The amused glances from the other customers left him mortified. He pulled away, but Kausalya, filled with an overwhelming emotion, clung to him.

“Karthi, I love you! I can’t live without you. Please marry me as soon as possible!” she declared.

Stunned by the transformation, Karthik realized the potency of the tantric’s thread. He quickly escorted her out of the café. But the day took a bizarre turn. Kausalya wouldn’t leave him alone—calling, messaging, and chatting non-stop, professing her love repeatedly. When he left the office at 6 PM, she was waiting outside, and upon seeing him, ran into his arms, hugging him in front of everyone.

Embarrassed and unsure of what to do, Karthik drove her home, but not before they hugged inside his car. At her house, her parents stood at the door, stunned as Kausalya passionately embraced Karthik one last time before going inside.

Terrified by this overwhelming display of affection, Karthik rushed back to the tantric.

“Thank you for your help,” he began, “but is there any way to reduce the power of the thread? Kausalya is behaving strangely, and it’s becoming a problem in public places.”

“How many knots did you tie?” the tantric asked.

“Three,” Karthik admitted, his heart sinking.

The tantric shook her head gravely. “You’ve ignored my instructions. The spell is now irreversible. She will continue behaving this way, and soon, you both will become a laughingstock.”

“No, no!” Karthik cried out in despair.

At that moment, he felt a nudge and heard his mother’s voice.

“Karthi, wake up! Did you have a nightmare? You were screaming in your sleep—talking about yellow threads and tantric. What on earth were you dreaming about? Come on, get up and brush your teeth. I’ll get you some coffee.

Karthik sat up in bed, his heart still racing, and realized with relief that it had all been a scary dream. “Thank god,​ I did not visit the tantric as suggested by Shankar.​ I would rather wait for Kausalya to make up her mind than expose myself to such awkward situations.”

Embracing the Christmas Spirit (921 words)

Anita Sebastian sat quietly on the sofa, watching her family decorate the Christmas tree. Strings of lights were being carefully woven along the branches by her husband and children. Her daughter, Priya, sat nearby, surrounded by colourful glass baubles and delicate ornaments, waiting eagerly for her dad and brothers to ask for them. A large star and a beautiful angel lay on the floor, the family still debating which one would crown the tree. Laughter, loud cackle and mirth, filled the room as they invited Anita to join in. But she wasn’t in the mood. She gazed at them vacantly, her head aching slightly, and a heavy sense of listlessness weighed her down.

Earlier, she had made tea for everyone, along with a plateful of cookies for the children and her husband. But even the warm tea did little to lift her spirits.

The previous afternoon, Anita had visited an adjacent apartment complex. It was a smaller building, mostly occupied by elderly residents living alone in single-bedroom flats. She had gone to see Mrs. Christine, an old acquaintance from church. Anita hadn’t seen her in over a year, though they used to exchange pleasantries after Sunday services. Christine was frail, relying on a walker to move around. The pastor had recently mentioned her, expressing his concern about her lonely life and meagre pension.

Christine’s story weighed on Anita. The elderly woman owned her flat, but her only son lived abroad. In the early years, he would visit alone every two years, promising to bring his wife and children the next time. That promise was never fulfilled. For the past few years, Christine had heard nothing from him. Whether he was alive or dead, she didn’t know. In desperation, she had asked the pastor for help, but without knowing where her son lived, little could be done to contact him. Despite her failing health and poor vision, Christine clung to life with one hope—that she might see her grandchildren, just once, during Christmas.

The pastor had kindly arranged for a young maid to care for Christine, but he also urged Anita to visit. "You're so close to her," he had said. "A little compassion from someone like you could add some joy to her lonely life. The Lord would surely bless you for it."

Touched by the pastor’s words, Anita had gone to Christine's apartment. The maid led her to the old woman, who was reclining in an easy chair. Christine squinted, trying to recognize her visitor, and smiled faintly when Anita introduced herself. "Ah, you’re the lovely lady from church! I remember hearing you sing in the choir."

Anita smiled back. "Yes, Auntie. I should have come sooner, and I’ll visit often from now on. The pastor suggested that I visit you. I’ve brought some homemade cookies. My children are home for the holidays."

Christine's face lit up. "You must bring them next time! I'm waiting for my grandchildren to visit. My son promised to bring them for Christmas, and I even have gifts ready for them." She gestured to a corner of the room, where Anita noticed a pile of dusty, gift-wrapped packages,

Anita’s heart ached at the sight. Christine’s face had turned sad as she spoke of her grandchildren. Anita gently took her hand and said, "Don't worry, Auntie. I’ll pray they come this year." She didn’t believe it herself, but couldn’t bring herself to shatter the old woman’s tiny hope. After a short visit, Anita left with a promise to return soon.

That encounter stayed with her, casting a shadow over her heart. Watching her children, full of Christmas joy, setting up the tree with their father, Anita couldn’t shake the image of Christine sitting alone, waiting in vain for a family reunion that would never happen.

Sebastian, who had been stealing glances at her from across the room, finally walked over. He sat beside her, gently wrapping an arm around her shoulders and brushing her hair back from her forehead. "I know what's on your mind," he said softly. "Don't worry, honey. We’ll do something for Mrs. Christine. Tomorrow, let’s go to the mall and get her some nice gifts and a cake, too."

Anita’s spirits lifted at the thought, and she nodded. A little while later, she joined the children in decorating the tree, placing a cheerful Santa Claus figure at the top. Later that evening, they went to the mall together, buying gifts with Christine in mind.

On Christmas Eve, the house was aglow with warm lights, and the tree sparkled with extra ornaments—apples, pinecones, and coloured shells. The dining table was laid out with a feast of fruits, pastries, and chocolates. The children hummed Christmas carols as they waited to leave for Midnight Mass. The mood in the house was merry, but Sebastian was nowhere to be seen.

Anita was wondering where he had gone when she heard his car pull into the driveway. Opening the door, she saw him escorting a smiling Mrs Christine into the house.

"Anita," Sebastian said with a grin, "Christmas is about family, and Mrs. Christine is part of ours. She’ll be staying with us for two days, enjoying the company of grandchildren—and an affectionate daughter."

Tears welled up in Anita’s eyes as she rushed forward to embrace the old woman, who opened her arms wide, smiling brighter than Anita had ever seen. This Christmas, Christine’s wish had come true—though not with her own family, but with a new one that welcomed her with open hearts.

 May your Christmas be filled with love. laughter and magical moments!

Uma’s Faux Pas (907 words)

 

"Is this how you submit files to the GM of the company? Don’t you know this is going to the board of directors? The file covers are dog-eared, the pages aren’t numbered, and the references aren’t flagged. Do you expect them to sift through the entire thing? I won’t tolerate such shoddy work!" Uma snapped, tossing the file onto the table.

The young man, handsome and in his early thirties, stood silently. He retrieved the file and left the room without a word. Uma, 28, had recently been appointed GM of the finance department. Eager to make an impression, she was tasked with preparing a report for an important board meeting in the absence of a finance director. A rank holder with some experience, Uma wanted to stand out right away.

A short while later, the young man returned, the file now in a new folder—pages numbered, references flagged, and corrections made in pencil to both figures and grammar. Embarrassed, Uma realized she had overlooked glaring errors in her report.

Recovering quickly, she said, “Thank you for the good work, but you should’ve ensured the file was in order from the start. What’s your name?”

“Kumar,” he replied simply.

“Thank you, Kumar. I’ll finalize it now. You can go.”

The next day, Uma waited anxiously for the call to present her report. Noon had come and gone, and she was ready to impress the board with her thorough understanding of the subject. Finally, she was summoned.

Entering the boardroom, she saw several directors seated around an oval mahogany table, with other officials seated along the walls.

"Welcome, Miss Uma," said the Managing Director. "We’ve reviewed your report, but our new Director of Finance needs some clarifications. He’ll be here shortly."

Just then, the door to a side room opened, and to Uma’s shock, Kumar emerged. He took a seat next to the MD.

"How do you do, Miss Uma?" he asked, pulling the file toward him. Uma realized her mistake—she had assumed Kumar was a junior executive. She felt a surge of embarrassment.

"Please join us at the table," he said with a smile, gesturing to the chair beside him. “I must say, the analysis in your report was impressive, and the recommendations were well thought out.” With a grin, he added, “Numbered pages and flagged references made it very easy to follow.”

After asking for a few clarifications and thanking her, Kumar concluded, “I look forward to working with you.”

That evening, Uma found herself in Kumar’s office. “I owe you an apology,” she began. “I mistook you for a junior executive yesterday and spoke rudely. I’m truly sorry and seek your forgiveness.”

“Don’t worry,” Kumar said, smiling. “It’s all forgotten. I knew you had misunderstood, so I just played along.”

That night, as Uma lay in bed, Kumar’s face kept appearing in her thoughts—his calm demeanour, his willingness to help, and how he had quietly done more than she’d asked. She was intrigued by his maturity and amused by how he had played along without revealing his true identity. Fantasies of working closely with him, and perhaps even something more, swirled in her mind, though she knew workplace relationships could be tricky and frowned upon.

A few days later, Uma’s car wouldn’t start in the basement parking lot. Frustrated, she was about to call a cab when Kumar appeared.

“Need help?” he asked.

“I don’t think you can fix this. It’s probably an electrical issue,” she replied.

Undeterred, Kumar opened the car door and gave it a try. After checking under the bonnet, he managed to get the engine running.

“Wow! You’re good with cars!” Uma said, surprised. “Where’s your car?”

“I took a cab today. Mine’s in the workshop,” Kumar explained.

“Let me drop you off,” she offered. “Where do you live?”

“South Extension.”

“That’s on my way,” Uma said with a smile, though she knew she didn’t really mean it.

As they drove, Kumar broke the silence. “Do you remember the first day we met in your office? That evening, I told my mom about it. She found it amusing and said, ‘I’d love to meet that bold lady who’s going to work with you.’ She’s been asking to meet you ever since.”

There was a pause before he added, “If you don’t mind, would you come over for a few minutes? I promised my mom I’d introduce you.”

 Uma caught off guard but flattered, replied, “Sure, I’d love to meet your mother. “Uma felt, however, that there was something more than what met the eye behind this unusual request but could not ignore the butterflies fluttering in her stomach.

At Kumar’s home, they entered a large, elegant living room. A dignified elderly woman sat in a recliner, watching a TV program on Margazhi Utsav. “Amma, this is Uma, the colleague I told you about,” Kumar said with a chuckle.

As the older woman smiled warmly and beckoned Uma closer, a young woman entered the room, holding a child.

“Oh, you must be Uma!” she exclaimed. “We heard everything about you and the conversation between you and Kumar in the first meeting. Believe me, we all had a great laugh and enjoyed it. I’m Rohini, Kumar’s wife.”

Uma’s heart sank. Her imagined romance shattered in an instant. The colour drained from her face even as the room filled with laughter, but she stood there, frozen, her fantasies dissolving into reality.

The Carpenter's Gift (433 words)

 

(I read this lovely story years back somewhere without the author’s name. I wish to share with you the wonderful moral contained in it. I wish we had such carpenters in today's world ridden with suspicion, strife and hatred.) 

Once upon a time, two brothers who lived on adjoining farms fell into conflict. It was the first serious rift in 40 years of farming side by side, sharing machinery, and trading labour and goods as needed without a hitch.

 Then the long collaboration fell apart. It began with a small misunderstanding and it grew into a major difference, and finally, it exploded into an exchange of bitter words followed by weeks of silence.

 One morning there was a knock on my elder brother's door. He opened it to find a man with a carpenter's toolbox. "I'm looking for a few days’ work. Perhaps you would have a few small jobs here and there. Could I help you?" he said.

 "Yes," said the older brother. "I do have a job for you. Look across the creek at that farm. That's my neighbour it's my younger brother. Last week there was a meadow between us and he took his bulldozer to the adjoining river and now there is a creek between us. He may have done this to spite me, but I'll give him one better. See that pile of lumber curing by the barn? I want you to build me an 8-foot fence so I won't need to see his place anymore. Cool him down, anyhow."

The carpenter said, "I think I understand the situation. Show me the nails and the post-hole digger and I'll be able to do a job that pleases you."

The older brother had to go to town for an errand, so he helped the carpenter get the required materials ready and then he was off for the day. The carpenter worked hard all that day measuring, sawing and nailing.

 When the farmer returned around sunset, the carpenter had just finished his job. The farmer's eyes opened wide and his jaw dropped.

There was no fence there at all. It was a bridge... a bridge stretching from one side of the creek to the other! A fine piece of work handrails and all - and the neighbour, his younger brother, was coming across, his hands outstretched. 

"You are quite a fellow to build this bridge after all I've said and done." 

The two brothers stood at each end of the bridge, and then they met in the middle, taking each other's hand. They turned to see the carpenter hoist his toolbox on his shoulder. 

"No, wait! Stay a few days. I have a lot of other projects for you," said the older brother.

 "I'd love to stay on," the carpenter said, "but, I have many more bridges to build."

The intruder when it rained (305 words)

 

The sky was overcast since morning but one did not expect a big rain. Suddenly there was a blinding flash followed by an ear-splitting thunder that seemed so nearby. It looked as if the sky broke open with torrential rain pounding the glass panes of the hall.

Everyone in the hall became silent for a while. The monthly kitty party of about a dozen young ladies was in full swing at Sunita's place. The silence soon gave way to a riot of laughter and light-hearted banter with the realisation that they could beat the rain to the party.

A little while later the door of the hall creaked open slowly. All eyes turned to who it could be at this hour. Sunita saw him standing at the door defiantly with legs apart and lips twisted.

Shocked she asked in an angry tone "What brought you here?"

In answer, he winked at her with a roguish smile and removed his shirt unperturbed by the shaken audience.

Even as the ladies gasped in disbelief, he traumatised them further by taking out his vest.

What a glowing complexion, well-proportioned body and charming features, they wondered.

“Stop it, I say. How dare you come here and misbehave like this? “Sunita screamed

When he put his finger nonchalantly on the zip to bring it down, the ladies stood up in dismay partially closing their eyes with fingers half in fear and half in curiosity to know what lay ahead.

They heard the cry in pain when Sunita whacked her five-year-old boy’s bum asking him to leave the hall instantly. There were peals of laughter followed by an admonition to Sunita from all at her inconsiderate reaction to the little intruder's prank..

The rain had subsided by then to a mild drizzle.

(This post was written long ago for Writer's Ezine)

The Smile (1069words)

 

I met Sudhir at a party. Strikingly handsome with a muscular body and curly hair, he caught my attention immediately as I entered the hall. He had not noticed me as he was chatting animatedly with a few young ladies. His smile was magnetic as I could see from the expressions of his listeners.  I moved closer to him to catch his eye but his twiddling thumbs were somewhat unsettling.

For the last few months, I have had no boyfriend since the last one moved away preferring someone else maybe for her money. Though I was dating someone, I had not found the right man. This guy appeared to be a good catch. He dressed well. I liked the dimple on his cheek when he smiled. As expected, he turned and his eyes fell on me. It seemed they froze on me momentarily making me uneasy till I smiled at him. He returned the smile and abruptly left his company to move towards me. Only when he came close I noticed it wasn’t a dimple but a scar. But did it matter when it added to his charm?

After the introductions, he asked courteously whether he could hold my hands for a dance. His lavish remarks on my beauty and the ease of my dancing steps, his whispers and the gentle touch and his winning smile made my legs weak aware that I had fallen for him head over heels. After a while, he took me out to the darker side of the long corridor to hug me and plant his first kiss. Cuddling close, we sat on a cold bench for a long time, expressing our wish to carry forward the friendship further through frequent meetings. A sudden cold breeze swept across and he held me tight. His hands were chilly There was some uneasy feeling when he stared at me with his smiling eyes. I didn’t know why but his darting eyes suddenly reminded me of a viper.

“Why, what happened, Savitha?” he asked anxiously.

“Nothing, the wind is chilly” I replied

“Okay, let us go inside. I will pick you up tomorrow evening from your office for our first date. Be ready” he said.

He was there sharp at 6 pm outside my office. We went to a film and then had dinner at a posh restaurant. He behaved with me very gentlemanly.” Would you mind visiting my room before I drop you at your place? We can have some drinks and some cuddling” he asked

“Why not? I do not mind so long as you behave yourself. From what I have seen you so far, you seem to be a fine gentleman. I consider myself fortunate to have become your friend” I replied

It was a well-kept place and a big day calendar on the wall showed the date prominently 7. The furniture and other things were neatly arranged showing Sudhir in bright light. I was happy and said “I am a cleanliness freak. I think we have similar tastes.”

He wrapped his arm around my waist and drew me close to kiss me. It was the same cold smile of a viper I had seen the previous day instead of feeling warmth as Sudhir’s grip tightened around my waist., I felt a cold shiver run down my spine. My instincts screamed at me to pull away. I involuntarily shuddered in fear and drew myself back.

“Why what happened, Savitha? You did this last evening also” he asked

“It is nothing,” I said

“No, I don’t believe you. You are scared not without justification. Your inner instincts have warned you correctly. I have been an evil man for one year. Have you had a boyfriend? Tell me,” he said

“Why, I did have a few but nothing clicked. I never got close to anyone. It is only you that I have fallen for and it is my wish that this stays for a long time. What evil you were talking about?” I asked

“Don’t get scared of what I am about to tell you. I love you and would not harm you. I had a girlfriend. We were in deep love with each other and were very intimate. We had plans to get married. I made all the arrangements until I saw her betraying me with another man one day.. When pressed she confessed that he was her ex-friend and had been having an affair on the sly. I lost my cool and in a fit of rage strangled her to death. Her man had a short time in prison.

This incident affected me mentally and I have lost faith in women. I befriend young women easily but cannot tolerate when they give an innocent smile to strangers or even waiters or lift operators. I am consumed by suspicion and jealousy. When alone with them, the rage in me suddenly swells up and I in a fit of madness kill them, maybe as a way to remove the bitterness in me. I think this suppressed anger has gone only after I have killed six women and possibly many of them were innocent,” he said without a trace of remorse in his voice or demeanour for his devilish deeds when I interrupted him.

Stunned by extreme fear without betraying it, I said calmly, “Can I go home now, Sudhir? You can tell me the rest later. I am feeling giddy” I said

“Savitha, do not be afraid that you will be the seventh victim. I am no psycho. I am changed. No harm will come to you. I love you very much and wish to spend the rest of my life with you” he said even as he embraced me tightly as if to assuage my fears.

It was then I felt a burning sensation on my back. I tried to free myself from his steely grip even as I saw a patch of scarlet on the floor around my feet, warm and sticky. Oh my god, what has happened to me I feared and looked at him.  He was smiling at me with the same viper-like eyes even when I felt a searing pain and weakening of my legs as I struggled in his arms in a confused state. The brightness around me dimmed quickly to darkness as I crumpled on the floor even as the number 7  on the calendar flickered before me strangely.

Peter's Defiance (730 words)

                                           (A story that will leave a smile in your face)

It was a day care for kids. With more than a dozen kids in her care, Lolita was busy daily except weekends. She had a young maid to assist her. The toddlers and children came around 8 am and were picked up by 3 pm by one of their parents.. There were many toys, dolls, building blocks, toy trains and even a play area with slides and swings. They were given materials for drawing, colouring, and picture books for reading. They could play till 11 am when they have something to eat and then sleep for two hours on the beds assigned to each. Though noisy, the kids were generally obedient and never threw any tantrums. They may sometimes resist eating or going to bed but they typically yield to gentle persuasion.

  Lolita’s neighbour Agnes came this morning with Peter and requested, " Lolita, I have to leave in a short while on some urgent work to the next town and expect to return by 5 pm. My husband is on tour. My maid has played truant today. Would it be possible for you to take care of Peter in my absence? I am sure he would not give you trouble.”

However, Peter demonstrated his unwillingness to stay with Lolita. He snuggled close to Agnes preventing her from leaving till he finally relented after she sat by his side cajoling and pampering him.

Lolita knew from his face that he had not taken kindly to her. He didn’t mingle with other children even when they exhibited interest in playing with him. He stood glum for a while as he stood uncertainly. Tears were in the corner of his eyes as he looked at the closed front door. This is perhaps the first time Agnes had left him behind.

The other children were enjoying playing games or sliding or swinging. Some were busy colouring the pages. One boy climbed up the stairs two or three steps and jumped down. Suddenly Peter jumped on the sofa standing on his legs.

“Peter, get down, dear. No standing on the sofa. They will get dirty” Lolita said, her voice gentle but firm. 

She sighed when he ignored her and bounced on the sofa like a madcap. The rest of the children stopped playing and watched curiously with subdued mirth at his disobedience. Lolita obviously could not permit this defiance in front of other toddlers. She grabbed him by his ear and brought him down. 

He went near the front door with a mournful look that showed hostility. He did not respond when the kids called him. Lolita decided she would no longer agree to keep him. She was after all doing this day care work as social service to the community.

When it was time for a food break Lolita kept some food and milk. While most children ate with relish, some did unwillingly with grim faces. But no one refused except Peter. He would not touch the food and instead turned his face towards the door expecting Agnes to return. When Lolita forced him, he scampered around and spilt the milk on the floor. Lolita turned towards the children and asked them to go to the main hall. She forced Peter to stay back.

“C’mon, Peter, I say eat the food kept for you. You are spoiling other children with your bad behaviour.” Lolita, who was normally patient with children, sighed in dismay at Peter's testing her patience to her limit.

He kept mum even after repeated cajoling. She did not get the obvious hint, that he was unhappy to be here and wanted to return to his home. There was nothing she could do to make him eat. It was time for sleep. While some children went to sleep promptly, a few pretended to sleep while watching Peter through the corners of their eyes.

It was around 2 pm the buzzer rang. Surprised who it could be so early, Lolita went to open the door with Peter following her. On seeing Agnes enter, Peter leapt into her arms, tail wagging furiously, his bark ‘bow-wow…bow-wow, echoing through the quiet daycare. Agnes knelt to rub his belly, and Lolita could only stare, her exhaustion finally giving way to a rueful smile. Lolita heaved a great sigh of relief and turned to Peter only to see the hostility had vanished and his tail wagged happily.

 

Whose writ finally prevailed (886 words)

As I was leisurely enjoying my lunch at the restaurant, I saw my ex-husband, Sunil, walk in alone, scanning the hall for a seat. I instinctively lowered my head, hoping to avoid his gaze

My thoughts drifted back to him and our time together. Sunil—well-educated, well-employed, and undeniably handsome—was the kind of man many women dreamed of marrying. Ours had been an arranged marriage, so I hadn’t had much chance to get to know him beforehand.

But once the initial excitement wore off, I began to see cracks. Beneath his charm, there was a selfishness, a sense of entitlement, and a complete disregard for others’ feelings. Being an only child, he had grown up without ever having to share or compromise. He seemed to believe that whatever he wanted should happen, unquestioned. I tried to stay optimistic, thinking things would change as we settled into marriage.

But I resisted when Sunil insisted that his word should govern all aspects of our life together. It wasn’t just about decisions affecting him—he wanted control over every detail, even dictating when I could visit my parents or speak to friends. He expected me to cook elaborate meals, no matter how late he came home or how exhausted I was. He dragged me to his friends’ dull parties, even when I made it clear, I disliked some of them. Eventually, things became so stifling that I felt like I could breathe easier without him.

The breaking point came one day when, during an argument, he declared, “In this house, my word is law. Do as I say or find somewhere else to live.” I replied that I would leave rather live under such conditions.

“Get lost then! Don’t you ever think of coming back!” he thundered with an angry scowl on his face.

I walked out that day.  He tried to reach out a month later, but I wasn’t ready to listen. The wounds were still fresh, though I must admit I missed him at times. Despite everything, I hadn’t sought out anyone else. I busied myself by learning Japanese, trying to be busy during idle hours.

I was jolted back to the present by a familiar voice. “Swapna, what a surprise! Can I sit here? I want to talk.”

I looked up and replied, “Sure, have a seat.”

He sat down and glanced at me before saying, “How are you? You look a bit wan…a little tired. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I said, though a part of me was pleased by his concern. Maybe he was remorseful, maybe he wanted to ask for forgiveness. If he genuinely apologized and showed he was willing to change, I wasn’t entirely opposed to giving our marriage another chance.

But as he sat there in silence, I prompted him. “You said you wanted to talk?”

“Yes,” he began, hesitating. “I’m not sure how to say this… or how you’ll take it.”

“Since when have you ever worried about my feelings?” I shot back. “Just say what you came to say.”

He was silent for a short while and began with a sigh, “I have nothing against you. We both struggled to adjust, and we couldn’t see eye to eye on most things. You decided to leave.”

I interrupted, “That’s not how it happened. You told me to leave when I couldn’t accept your ‘my way or the highway’ attitude. I always believed marriage was a partnership between equals.”

“Maybe so,” he said, a little uncomfortably. “But we’re living apart now, and it’s time we take formal steps.”

“Then have your lawyer send the papers. Why drag this out? I have other things to do,” I replied curtly.

“There’s something else,” he continued. “You know Smitha? She’s the assistant manager in my department. We’ve been seeing each other, and she’s agreed to marry me once the divorce is finalised. But she wants to meet you first, to understand why we separated. She insists on hearing directly from you before making the final decision. You can help me get on with my life by facilitating this marriage to materialise. Will you do this favour?” he pleaded in a soft tone that was unlike him.”

I wished to scream, but I concealed my anger and kept my voice steady. “Sure, send her over. I’m leaving now.”

The next day, Smitha came to my house. I greeted her and offered her a drink.

“I know you work with Sunil. What is it you want to talk to me about?” I asked, getting straight to the point.

“Yes,” she said, looking somewhat uncomfortable. “He is my boss. He’s asked me to marry him, but I need to know why you left him after just a year. Your answer will greatly help me to decide, though I promise not to divulge anything you say.”

I looked at her calmly. “It’s simple. Why do you think a woman would leave a well-educated, good-looking, successful man so soon after marriage?”

Her face paled slightly, and she whispered, “I think I know.”

I nodded. “He couldn’t consummate the marriage. The doctors said everything was normal, but he refused to acknowledge he had a problem.”

A fortnight later, I heard Smitha had resigned and left the city.

For once, it was my word that prevailed.