“The cow strains at the rope that tethers it to the post and comes up to them, nudging their faces with its soft wet nose: the slimy feel of fish guts, the earthy tang of manure. The girls laugh, syrup and sweetness, their angst forgotten, dispersed into the evening air that brings cooking smells wafting”
“My name is Kushi Shankar. I am seventeen years old and a resident of Bhoomihalli village. I am writing this letter to you because, in my opinion, even though you have been elected to represent the people of this state and have pledged to do your best by them, you sometimes forget how they, i.e. we, the common people, live.”
“with her, still. I am hurt, the hurt having multiplied when I realised that Kushi is Gopi’s child. But I also feel sorry for Puja, for everything she went through all alone, without the bolstering support of us, her family. Now I understand why Puja asked the landlord if she could marry Gopi. It was a desperate act on the part of a floundering girl. Is Kushi Puja’s way of giving me something of Gopi because she stole him from me? I love Kushi like nothing and no one else. It was love at first sight as it was with Puja, Ma, but with none of the jealousy. How could I resent this tiny new life, this helpless minuscule being who had come into my world on the rain ravaged day when I bid adieu to you and Da, a blessing at a time when I had never felt more alone? Whatever her reasons, I am grateful to Puja for the”
“Raj closes his eyes, and lets the cigarette work its magic. When he opens them again, Ellie is in his line of sight, under the awning by the bus stop, standing slightly apart from the giggly group of girls she hangs out with. Her sunshine coloured hair spills out of its loose ponytail, and her eyelashes fan downy gold-dusted cheeks. Her strawberry lips pucker as she checks her phone and she frowns.”
“forgive his father that. Before his father left for India, Raj had always nurtured the secret hope that one day he could leave his unfeeling mum and go stay with his dad. But when his dad emigrated, that”
“Touch-me-nots, their blooms, the soft, sugar-embroidered pink of a happy ending, shrink from the kiss of grumbling yellow bees. Butterflies coyly flutter their emerald-tipped silver wings as if dispensing benedictions from a benevolent god. High up in the coconut trees, the crows squabble and gossip.”
“Then she looked away, dismissing him as if she’d found him to be substandard.
All right, then. She didn’t find him attractive. Good.
In fact, he kept his head shaved to a glossy shine for just that reason. He was a man willing to do anything to discourage feminine attention.
Because yeah, females could be vanity hounds and most preferred their dates to have hair. Black, blond, red, it didn’t matter, as long as the locks were thick and lustrous.
And here was a news flash for little
Miss Giggles: when he allowed his to grow, it was dark brown, nearly jet, with hints of gold and worthy of a fucking lion.”
“Wife, to him, was someone who stood for stability, for
coming home, for dealing with all the shit he wasn’t able to deal with. For providing a real life and not this insanity.”
“Real ladies can give orders, Real gentlemen can take them, and Real zombies don’t eat brains.”
“You hear in the person you’re destined to love the sound of those yet to be born.”
“For the better part of my adult life I’d been making deadlines and chasing the next deal. It had been so long since I had stopped to reflect, I wasn’t sure what was important any longer. Things were moving so fast that there was no time to look below the surface. Everyone around me seemed to be operating on the same level, and it just fed on itself. We were all caught up in a whirlwind of important meetings and expensive lunches, do-or-die negotiations, lucrative deals conducted in fancy hotels with warmed towel racks and monogrammed robes.”
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