For twenty or so years, I wrote children’s books, largely because I lived in a house with children. When they grew up, I started writing short stories. I like the precision required, the necessity of focusing on small moments and quiet revelations.
Floating
She felt this wedding was a test, and as the late afternoon sun blasted down at her she had the pathetic thought that as long as she kept drinking she’d be okay.
Literary Autobiography
I came to writing "late", in my early thirties, though writing fiction had always been a dream, one which for years I shoved to the back of my mind and the bottom of my soul as something that was impractical and indulgent. Also something I’d probably not “succeed” at.
Rocks
Sumedha, the bride bought by her husband some years ago, has no school certificate because she had no school. She also doesn't have a home or parents. Where were her parents born? She guesses a new state every time she's asked.
The Atlas
The frayed Atlas, like most of Trina’s clothes and books, was a hand-me-down from her thirteen-year-old cousin sister, Paramita. The clatter of steel utensils being washed in a neighbouring flat mingled with the notes of a hit Bollywood song that played on someone’s radio. Trina’s own noisy house was peaceful for a change.
Words Keep Me Alive
Books not only offered me friendship; they also spoke about tragedies that made my own loss seem bearable.