Pages Menu
TwitterFacebook
Categories Menu

Posted by on Apr 3, 2015 in Ethnic stories | 5 comments

Short story: Lunch for the Little Guy

I’m packing lunch.

The usual clamour on the streets – school buses rushing by, the neighbour’s dog barking its ass off, the isthri guy with his cart – a discordant presence in the city. The fifty year old fitness nazi from across the street is doing pranayama.

Done stuffing the aaloo-chaaval into the steel lunch box, I’m simply staring at the ‘intake-hold-release’ routine being performed on the terrace, when Sudha walks into the kitchen. She should be thankful I’m helping her with the chores. She looks at the lunch box, and lets out a sigh- it’s not the sigh of relief I was expecting. It’s a sigh of regret.

“Mother, you need to stop doing this. He’s not going to come back.” Her voice falters.

My eyes sting.

Another year goes by, his memories do not.

___

Bhavya Vishwarajan is an aspiring writer and literature student from India.

468 ad

5 Comments

  1. That is so sad but it would be better if the story said what happened to the little boy, did he die in accident or what,but I liked it.

  2. I liked this very much, Bhavya – a sweet, sad story.

    • Thank you, Lucy. 🙂

  3. Wonderfully written – well done!

    • Thank you! 🙂

Post a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

Pin It on Pinterest