stories
long long ago
By baruk on May 6, 2011
Long long ago, and far far away, there was a mountain. At the foot of the mountain (sorta near the big toe) there was a stream. It was a long and winding stream, and was very famous in certain circles. By the side of the stream, just after a very bendy bend, was a rather [...]
Posted in etc, photos, stories | Tagged americans, deeticus, story | 1 Response
Chhumleivak
By baruk on March 11, 2010
Chhumleivak was tired. They had been wandering for what felt like forever, uphill and downhill and overhill and underhill- in fact any combination of hills and wandering you could think of. Done. And they was tired. They had swarmed through forests of bamboo and been poked, pricked and prodded in every way imaginable. They had [...]
Posted in stories | Tagged dhobi-ka-kutta
Watching Hine
By baruk on January 27, 2010
Watching was a lightning bolt. Not a very impressive one, to be sure, and unlikely to ever reach the sky-splitting-cloud-smacking-treetop-crackling power of some of the other lightning bolts in the herd. But Watching was happy. Because late at noon, when no one was around, and the moisture was just right, woh (yes yes, lightning bolts [...]
Posted in stories | Tagged dhobi-ka-kutta
rahul and i
By baruk on June 11, 2007
was actually the ‘prelude’, of sorts, to ‘cigarettes, tea …’ _____________________________________________________ So much blood, so much anger, so much hate. So tired. And Rahul is screaming again. Wishing he could scream, rather. Wishing he could die. Wishing, hardest, he could write. It’s bleeding sunsets again. It is bleeding tomato ketchup and redemption and acres of [...]
cigarettes, tea and the wild wild hills
By baruk on March 24, 2007
Mizoram. The land I was born in, left when I was 6, and am returning to after 17 years. I was prepared for the journey: the dramatic change in scenery, the extreme change in food. What I wasn’t prepared for was the colour of the sky. It is all Rahul’s fault, really. He has been [...]
Posted in stories | Tagged mizoram, north east india, rahul
Dhobi-Ka-Kutta
By baruk on January 11, 2007
“My name is not Neelu,” she said, scowling fiercely at me. “And don’t call me Neela, only Ammama may call me that. My name is Nilanjana.” Suitably rebuked, I shut up and listened to Nilanjana tell me, for the third time, the story of how the sunset came to fall in love with the neem [...]
Posted in stories | Tagged dhobi-ka-kutta
neisha
By baruk on June 22, 2006
might as well start with this! written a while ago, but me first writing in a while. ——————————- Neisha Evening winter sunshine on glass. Glass. And shards of memory invade the quiet smoke under the trees. Like the time she wore the jasmine garland around her neck. I should have kissed her then, ignoring the [...]
