Other Entries for Pothiz

His Rainbow-Colored Umbrella

by Chris Collins

JUST THEN ARJUNA emerged carrying a large conch onto the tee-block platform. The old man made his self present amid this incredible earthly activity on tremendous scale.

Walking and breathing with some effort, underneath the illuminative shade of his somewhat overlarge, rainbow-colored umbrella, the old man gratefully unsaddled and set down his pack, his self sitting and resting on it. He sat ruling the roost from there in the center of this fantasma.

Arjuna had a boyish grin on a deeply tanned face. His experienced smiling eyes, great gifts from having seen so much of this world with a quite balanced attitude, showed bright while sparkling intense depths.

The old man's hair was still dark in places in the back. Mostly, though, his hair looked like puffs of white clouds, not too unlike Lord Indra’s who playfully stole heavenly cows in the Vedas tale. His hair behind his ears also had the color of clouds, though a touch rain-bearing. Now his hair went up with the breeze that rolled in over the valley.

Arjuna was kitted out in synthetic black pants that were modern and popular for trekking. To Nicolas, however, the old man appeared to be of the (Read full article)


by प्रियंका गुप्ता

सभा में पहुंच कर उसने देख़ा,"अंधविश्वास हटाओ, देश बचाओ" अभियान के तहत "अंधविश्वास निर्मूलन समिति" के अध्यक्ष अपने ओजस्वी भाषण से जलसे में मौजूद विशाल जनसमूह को मंत्रमुग्ध किए हुए हैं, " अगर इस देश से अंधविश्वास समाप्त हो जाए तो हमारा यह महान देश बहुत शीघ्र उन्नति के शिखर पर होगा । जादू-टोने, बिल्ली का रास्ता काटना, छींक से कार्य में विघ्न पड़ना आदि कितनी ही निरर्थक बातों में फँस कर हमारा समाज अपनी हानि कर रहा है । उदाहरण के तौर पर देख़िए, छींकने से कोई काम कैसे बिगड सकता है भला ? हो सकता सदियों पहले किसी व्यक्ति का कोई कार्य बिगड गया हो और उस कार्य को करने से पहले उसे छींक आ गई हो तो यह मान लिया गया होगा कि छींक ही उसका काम बिगडने की वजह थी । अगर इसे वैज्ञानिक तौर पर देखा जाए तो छींक आना बीमारी आने का पूर्वसूचक होता है और बीमार व्यक्ति अपना कार्य सही ढंग से नहीं कर सकता । अतः हमें चाहिए कि हम अंधविश्वासों के चक्कर में पड़ कर अपना भविष्य चौपट न करें, वरन उन्हें नकार कर आगे बढ़ते जाएं तभी हमारा देश सच्ची उन्नति कर सकेगा...।" तालियों की गड़गड़ाहट के साथ ही अध्यक्ष (Read full article)

In Search of a Better Wife

by Ram Govardhan

Utter insanity of prolonging his three-year-old marriage struck Altaf like a tsunami that eventually floods shore following days of meteorological forewarnings. After eleven hundred excruciating days, few more hours with Hamida, his wife, were proving intolerable. Her mere sight was repulsing, her presence exasperating. They grumbled in mono syllables, dined separately and slumbered in different rooms. Unaware of the couple’s predicament, whole of Borivali boasted their ‘made for each other’ charm.

Even as fiancé, he was awake to Hamida’s sense of trend, etiquette and accent that were all equally revolting. But it was Zakir, his bosom friend, who had ‘approved’ her and beguiled him saying, “Father Time would iron out everything.” They had a tacit pact that each of them would say "I do" only after the other had ‘passed’ the girl. Buying into Zakir’s unchanging ‘time’ wisdom, Altaf tied the knot prevailing upon himself, “Everything about an adolescent girl, surely, was highly malleable.” After marriage, he bent over backwards to elevate her tastes, style and carriage to acceptable Bombay levels, in vain.

Altaf’s had deliberated so much on his crumbling matrimony and imminent separation with friends that they would dub him a loser if he brooked her anymore. Zakir was (Read full article)


by Amit Shankar Saha

Gora, having killed his assailants, did not know what to do next. He had kicked one in the gut with the point of his boot and had seen him collapse. The other, who held a crude local-made rifle, aimed at his torso and pulled the trigger. But the automaton jammed and the gunpowder backfired killing him instantly in a blast. It was then that Gora realized that he had nothing else to do. His bike had skidded into a steep ditch, which lay murkily by the side of the road and there was no vehicle in sight either going to or coming from Azamgarh.

He squatted under a tree and reclined his head on its trunk. He sat still to contain the shivering in his bones, even though he had no idea presently that in a few days’ time he will be charge sheeted for murder and put on trial in a court of law. He thought what if he had died instead of his assailants in the incident. He imagined that there lay on the road, in place of two bodies, one body bearing his resemblance and wearing his clothes. He tried hard to imagine a world in which (Read full article)

The Party

by Sonali Pota

The party

Padma got out of bed one morning feeling very happy. She wondered what was special. She glanced at her bedside table and knew the reason. There were two beautiful cards on it. One from her parents and the other from Pi, her younger brother.
It was her thirteenth birthday today!

As she came out of her room, “Happy Birthday Princess”!! Shrieked her cousin, Sulekha (Su for short). “How come you are her?”, exclaimed Padi. “I wanted to give my favourite little cousin sister a surprise”, teased Su. “She came here early in the morning, as she wanted to be the first one to wish”, smiled Padma’s mother.
Sulekha was really a friend to Padma. She would discuss all her problems and Su was more than willing to lend a sympathetic ear.

As the day progressed, Padi received phone calls from her uncles, aunts, friends and cousins. “I’m surprised so many people remember my birthday”, exclaimed Padi enjoying all the attention. “Today is your day so don’t let anything spoil it”, said Su.
A little before lunch, Vandi called up to say, “why don’t to you come over? I’ve got some super stuff to show you”.
Padi was (Read full article)

Love Stunts

by Nicholas YB Wong

Pack your parachute,
prepare for the plunge,

keep your eyes open
when falling like a secular angel.

Keep breathing, though
the pressure makes it difficult.

You’ll be closest to me
when you smother yourself.

But, mind you – you could die of thin supply of air.
If not, our love would be mortal

(Read full article)

A Short Story about Love

by Abhishek Rane

It would be their last train ride together. They climbed into the green first class compartment of the 6.15PM local train at Panvel station.With their black backpacks and a pair of books cradled in their arms, they looked like the archetypal young college going couple in their twenties.

He was tall, dark and handsome in an Indian way with thick bushy eyebrows and eyes that reflected a boyish innocence, a ticklish sense of humor that had almost everyone around in splits. What drew most people to him though was his impish smile. A smile that never left his face in his worst moments;when he had failed a few subjects, when he missed a crucial penalty in his team's football finals or at the time when, he was insulted by the Principal for being late. It was as if he laughed at some private joke all the time, as if he had seen the futility of it all.

She was as tall as him, slim and fair with silky long hair. Her pretty angelic face had a pair of eyes that reflected a tinge of green. In fact there wasn’t a guy in the class who did not find her cute. And for (Read full article)


by Rashmi Gowda

She looked out the window. It was raining. “Better than snow” she told herself. She didn’t mind traveling. It was good to travel once in a while. By road, when someone else was driving. Like now, on the bus back home. It gave you time to reflect, read a book and watch the world go by.

She did have a lot to reflect on. A new start, a new beginning awaited her. She was finally starting on her new career. She would have expected to be sad about what she left behind, but she really wasn’t. Besides, she hadn’t really loved the man. Not even when she tried convincing him that she did. It was the challenge of it, she realized now, with the benefit of hindsight. She thought of the bet she had won with him, when she first got to know him. The poor guy didn’t know she only made bets she knew she would win. He had to treat her to coffee as part of the bargain. She smiled when she thought of it. ST sat there, looking awkward as he tried to make small talk. He was smart, and easily one of the better looking guys (Read full article)

Vagaries of Justice

by Nanda Ramesh

Raghu slowly opened his eyes. As his vision focused he could see a white ceiling and two screens to his left and right. It looked and smelt like a hospital ward.

His head throbbed and his body seemed to ache all over. He realized that he was bandaged in more places than not.

Raghu tried to remember what had happened. He was on his way home from work when a fast moving silver vehicle had overtaken him from the left. It had bumped his bike causing him to lose balance. He had felt himself coming clear off the bike, hanging in the air for a moment before crashing down hard on the road.

After that his memory was a blank.

He felt some acute pain in his chest and involuntarily gave a groan.

He heard the curtain being pulled quickly. Someone grasped his wrist. Raghu looked up to see a nurse taking his pulse. He started to say something, but words did not come out. He tried to get up.

"Please lie down, sir. You were in an accident couple of hours back. How are you feeling now?”, she asked, smiling at him.

Raghu motioned for water. The nurse filled a glass with (Read full article)

Lesser Human

by Jovan Fernandes

The road was almost dry, other than the open-mouthed potholes that now resembled small pools of chocolate milk, and an odd pedestrian or two rushing past with still open umbrellas. As I strolled below the gulmohars that unevenly lined the street, their leaves dropping off the final evidence of their recent bath, in the multitude of the unacquainted, I saw a face I recollected but couldn’t place.

The owner of the face was scolding away at a little replica of herself perched like a pot of water, firmly on her little hip - identical curly hair, button-nose and the same round face with a heavy jaw. As she drew nearer, and I could clearly see the whole of her, I stood rooted to the spot, shocked to observe the visibly rotund tummy.

By now she seemed to have done with the admonishing, and the subject looked penitent about whatever it was that had led him into this predicament.

The last few shadows between us moved away and we stood face to face now. As the yellow smile greeted me, I finally found my memory.
This young mother was once a student at the street welfare centre at the Church. The centre (Read full article)