indian-fiction

There__ a great drought in my village. People are dying. The price of rice and pulses has rocketed. There is no water anywhere. And here, people are complaining about the rain...

But he__ an untouchable, Shirin._ __e__ my Untouchable Prince Charming, then. Only I am allowed to touch him.

What wouldn__ my people give for a few bites of the biryani she ordered me to throw away yesterday because she said it smelt?

Every family has secrets, Reena, and they__e there for a reason.

You put cow dung on my face?_ __very day religiously until you were three. Why else do you think your skin is so clear?

What better hiding place than an old, woodlice-ridden album of photographs!

You are a girl, Shirin. Girls don__ run around naked.___hy?___hey just don__.

What am I doing here, Reena? Why am I dancing to the tunes of that old hag?___ou are saving your family.

You don__ live in luxury! You are relegated to sleep in the little store room behind the kitchen with the cockroaches and rats and are at the mercy of Mrs. Gupta,_ Reena was indignant. __t__ five-star accommodation compared to a mud hut.

I watched the rows and rows of chappals left by devotees outside the Hindu temple and wondered if the homeless boys who sometimes steal our chickens ever steal them, and if they do, are they punished, and if so by whom?

Have you been reading those books that clueless illiterate Duja in charge of the lending library lets you borrow?_ __o, Ma._ __hen what put you in mind of devils possessing nuns to take over the church?

Where are the coconut trees bowing allegiance to the wind, the wide open spaces, the verdant green fields?

The three flower shops were obliterated. The petals of the once-dewy flowers and their sellers' flesh burnt together. The people reacted and, unlike the birds, they did not react in unison. They ran towards the narrow streets near the masjid, trampling over the old and limping beggars. They pushed and shoved and cursed and cried. The birds circled in the air, pitying the humans who had lost their humanity.

We may not have sewage, drinking water, and Olympic gold medals, but we do have democracy.

A community that engages readers and culturally enabled people to connect, support and harness intellectual and cultural capabilities.

He could not help but admire his posters every time he saw them---the son of a rickshaw puller, now the chief of a prominent political party in this town, who was expected to win by an unprecedented margin of votes in the coming elections. There were many people in the party who begrudged his presence, his power, but they could do nothing. The people of Amrapur loved him and his speeches. Some people called them inflammatory, divisive, and harmful to the peace and harmony of the town. A smile spread across his face every time he heard that word. Has anything ever been achieved by harmony? What would the leaders do with harmony? Why would people come to listen to his speeches in droves if they wanted harmony? Elections can never be won by harmony.

She liked the way a ray of mild autumn sun infiltrating the thick cluster of trees caught a reddish orange leaf swirling in the wind and transformed it golden yellow. She liked that it wasn__ a leaf she recognised, that she could name or associate with her past.

The time is ripe for young Indian authors writing in the English language.