Grab a cuppa, tell a story or listen to one.

Everyone loves stories. Everyone has a story to tell.



The Wedding Guests

Strings of tiny lights shone around the three-story house in the dim evening light. A large canopy decorated with garlands of marigolds and jasmines stood next to it. Inside the canopy, other than the hustle –bustle that a wedding usually witnesses, there was the whispering sounds that a tussar kurta makes every time it rubs on the crisp dhuti, the vases of blooming rajnigandha, the brightness from the yards and yards of silk and dhakai draped by the guests and the sounds of the shehnai in the backdrop.

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Shankar and Millie

Shankar was nothing if not meticulous. He did everything in an orderly fashion and the one bedroom, sparkly clean apartment of his was a standing proof of it. There was never a thing out of its place with clothes hanging in a row in the compact wardrobe; handkerchiefs, vest and underpants folded in a symmetrical pattern and arranged in respective drawers. One would never find a coffee stain on the table, the floors were shiny and not a speck of dust could meet any fingertips. All this managed by the man alone with no woman in his life, not even a domestic help.

Shankar himself was a vision for sore eyes – his hair never out of place and the clothes were perpetually wrinkle free as if no one existed within it; his car sparkled even on the dusty roads. In a world of mess and chaos, Shankar was laughed at and looked down upon. People called him a simpleton.

“Shankar, look your shirt button popped out”, they would tease him.

“There is tea stain on your desk”, they would bother him

“Hey Shankar boy”, they would walk over and ruffle his hair.
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The Girl In The Green Dress

You know what’s worse than breaking up with a boyfriend of two years? Breaking up just a week before Valentine’s Day!The breakup didn’t come as a surprise to Natasha, but she wasn’t prepared for it either. The couple had been having arguments and disagreements for quite some time now. Each passing day the “I Love You’s” were getting occasional and the “I told you so” more frequent.

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The Crossing

After staying a while in the US, the author returned to India, the country he was born, raised and spent his formative years. As it happens, something he was so accustomed to suddenly felt new and needed practice.  

“Welcome sir”, the man in crisp navy blue security uniform said cheerfully giving me a polite bow.

He then proceeded to give me a brisk but thorough body frisk with a portable metal detector that would put any American Airport  TSA personnel to shame. 
Before I realized what happened, the man had done his job. He gave me a polite bow again and opened the door of the hotel as I looked at him bleary eyed and disoriented after my transcontinental flight.
The multistoried hotel was located just across the largest technology park in Hyderabad. I looked out of my room window at the rows of huge buildings across an empty road. It was late in the night but most of the buildings across the road were lit up, their glass edifice shimmering brightly against the night sky.

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Can a boy and a girl be friends ? BFF’s ?  Just friends ?  May be. Or may be not. 

I have a man in my life – a man about whom I rarely speak of, but he is never away from my thoughts. A man who isn’t part of my social world, but my existence is incomplete without him. A man I have known for thirty-eight years of my life, but even today I can’t explain to anyone what he really means to me. That man is Aabha!
I have vivid memories of the day I first met Aabha. It was the summer of 1972. I was twelve years old. He was twenty-two.

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We started on a dark rainy night…

Siddharth Joshi, is our newest storyteller on the block. We had to pursue most of our storytellers so far. This is the first time a very interesting story came in to our Inbox unannounced. The story and the storytelling style is new and left us with goosebumps all over. 

We started on a dark, rainy night.

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I had decided to give another shot to the IIT joint entrance examination.
Indian Institute of Technology’s or IIT’s are a group of elite engineering colleges in India. The admission to the institutes is through a joint entrance examination, universally acclaimed as very difficult to get through.

I did not get through IIT last year and accepted admission in one of the state engineering colleges. This college was in a beautiful campus that was tucked away in the foot hills of Himalayas. On a clear day we could see the outline of the snowcapped peaks.

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Saying Good Bye

The most painful goodbyes are the ones that are never said or never explained. It is one of the most traumatic aspects of human relationships. A loved ones goes away sooner you would want them to leaving a void and a silence that can never be filled and questions that will always remain unanswered. But one has to move on with life, the show must go on. Sometimes that means saying goodbye in a different way. 


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Ma’s Shining Star

“Which story do you want tonight?”

“The one with three fairies?”

“But I told you that story yesterday!”


“Don’t you want a different story tonight?”

“Ok, then I want the one in which fritters rain from sky.”

“Aren’t you a smart ass? It’s the same story with three fairies in which fritters rain from sky.”

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