By Selma Carvalho
The Friday they leave for a weekend in Belgium, Anju discovers Freddo is cheating on her. She doesn’t share her knowledge with him. What she should have said was, ‘Freddo, I’m tired of this shit. This time, I’m leaving.’
Her heart feels like it is going to stop breathing all on its own, distinct from the rest of her. The pain is so intense, she realises it is possible for the rest of her body to survive the carnage, while her heart, expelled from her being like a refugee, would simply die.
By Brenda Coutinho
Our ancestral house, a little away from the meandering river along the salt pans, bulged with inmates of all ages. My parents, seven paternal uncles, their wives and children, and my grandparents made our household buzz with activity at all times. It was especially during the monsoons that all of us remained caught in the house, owing to continuous showers for days.
By Brenda Coutinho
Issue no. 8
Nancy plucked the pearl white mogra and placed it gently into the loop of a thin braid of flowers. A whiff of scented breeze ruffled her tresses. Dew drops rolled and played a balancing game on leaf-tops; as a pale brown spider was engrossed in weaving a trap for its unsuspecting victims.
