First Prize - Verina Berryl Rasquinha
Second Prize - Paresh Tiwari
Third Prize - Vishal Gupta
Shortlist Longlist
Second Prize - Paresh Tiwari
Third Prize - Vishal Gupta
Shortlist Longlist
Showing posts with label Flash Fiction 2014. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Flash Fiction 2014. Show all posts
Tuesday, 1 April 2014
Saturday, 1 February 2014
Flash Fiction 2014 Shortlist, Tanya Sehgal
She Will Wait!
The seedy bar smelt of stale peanuts and cheap cologne, the atmosphere grew mystic with sweat and hardships of fisherman.
The lady sat there with a glass of red wine, deliriously waiting for someone.
Young sailors danced to the loud music.
He did not arrive even after nine years, she will wait...
Flash Fiction 2014 Shortlist, Sunil Sharma
Laughing Caregivers
The same ringing laughter!
Bed Number 3---reduction of a patient to a number---pleads: “Please! It hurts!”
They deaf?
“Money paid?’
“Yes, doc.”
“In full?”
“Yes.”
“Fine.”
The Number 3 gasps: “Doctor, it is terrible! Do not be brutal.”
“Shut up!” The nurse barks. “Questioning the doc?”
Purple
spot appears, flows down and merges with other dried-up stains on the
smelly sheet. A roomful of narrow steel-beds, hard mattresses and
pillows…like a barrack. Stinks.
The Kingdom of Pain.
Sovereign is Death.
Number 3 sobs.
Docs, nurses and ward boys laugh.
“Hurry up! There are others.”
Hyenas attack in a TV programme on for nobody.
Same experience: civic, private and luxury hospitals; stained white uniforms; chilling laughter of care-givers.
Number 3 jerks off and is held viciously; cries baby-like.
The more the low-pitched cries, the more the metallic laughter deafening… but, oddly, unheard outside.
Flash Fiction 2014 Longlist, Shrestha Roy
INCOMPLETE LOVE
The buzz of the airplanes continued to fill the
girdle behind as she waited for her departure. She stood at the hallway
and saw the most imperious smile, taking her breath away. She exhaled a
deep one, as he amazed her with his norms. He was a Devil in formals
and She was an Angel in her elite body. Moments elapsed devouring her
charm onto him. Her cold body awaited for his caressing presence as the
announcement banged her ears to take her respective flight. Numbness
gripped up her limbs, the guards nudged her to enter the gate and she
was taken into the air as he continued to endure her stares and tempt
her more...
Flash Fiction 2014 Longlist, Shravya Gunipudi
The Switch
Just as he set the glass aside and unhooked his belt, his eyes fixed on her, she took a step back.
She knew what was coming.
As the lights went out, everything changed...
She liked to believe that people were like switches.
There was always an on and an off just waiting to be toggled. When the lights were on, people were on their best behaviour, but when the switch was turned off, there was an entirely different story.
Her husband was one such person.
She stood in the hallway, thinking these
thoughts as he untied his shoes after a long day at work. When he signaled for her to bring him the glass of water in her trembling
hands, she obeyed and took a few steps forward, taking in his chiselled
features and his strong, masculine body. There was always an on and an off just waiting to be toggled. When the lights were on, people were on their best behaviour, but when the switch was turned off, there was an entirely different story.
Her husband was one such person.
Just as he set the glass aside and unhooked his belt, his eyes fixed on her, she took a step back.
She knew what was coming.
As the lights went out, everything changed...
Contest 2014 Results
POETRY
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First Prize
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Vinita Agrawal
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Second Prize
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Rochelle Potkar
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Third Prize
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Shloka Shankar
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Subramanian Shankar
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| Longlist | Longlist |
Flash Fiction 2014 Longlist, Shivangi Narayan
Sleeping With Strangers
"Come on Rohan, Varsha talk to each other, get to know each other,” the mother said. Looking at everyone, she added, “The couple's compatibility is most important to us. Finally, they only have to live with each other.”
Sharma aunty said the boy is settled in the US,
earns in six figures but is as traditional as ever. That was his
selling point! Indians going to America for work or education stopped
being novel in 1992. Novelty was now in preserving culture. Can you see
the other way when a mélange of sex, drugs and rock and roll is thrown
at you?
The parents of the would-be-groom seemed
pleased with the setting. Varsha was dressed in a banarasi saree. There
were four types of sweets on the table and a Ganpati statue on the
side of the sofa. Varsha’s eyes were fixed on Rohan’s mom’s feet.
"Come on Rohan, Varsha talk to each other, get to know each other,” the mother said. Looking at everyone, she added, “The couple's compatibility is most important to us. Finally, they only have to live with each other.”
Flash Fiction 2014 Shortlist, Sayantini Bhattacharya
Webbed
Finally the day came for which Dhruv had been
waiting from last few years. Dhruv and Shalini met in a chat room, they
talked for long, smiled together, shared emotional memories and
promised to love each other till the very end. Finally when the proposal
came from Shalini to have a meeting in her place, Dhruv just couldn’t
stop himself from jumping like a kid. As he reached Shalini’s door
dressed perfectly and with a bunch of red roses, he could feel his
heartbeats when he touched the calling bell. Shalini was looking
extra-ordinarily sexy in the black gown, but what shook Dhruv entirely
were her six bony, hairy hands, two similarly bony legs, a plump torso
and a large cobweb on which she posed herself.
Flash Fiction 2014 Shortlist, Sanghamitra Mazumdar
The Girl On The Bridge
He saw her again today while driving back home from office. She stood at the same spot, giving him that stern cold stare. He almost froze the first -- no, second -- time he had seen her. He had tried to ignore, just liked the first time. But she would be standing there, every night, giving him that look – the look that has not let him sleep for the last 10 days.
He walked into the police station next morning. The cops showed him a photo of the body of a girl found floating in the Yamuna. He recognised her; had seen two young men standing next to a BMW throttle her and then throw her off the bridge. And she had seen him drive past in a daze that midnight, only slowing down a bit, but not stopping.
He did not see her again.
He saw her again today while driving back home from office. She stood at the same spot, giving him that stern cold stare. He almost froze the first -- no, second -- time he had seen her. He had tried to ignore, just liked the first time. But she would be standing there, every night, giving him that look – the look that has not let him sleep for the last 10 days.
He walked into the police station next morning. The cops showed him a photo of the body of a girl found floating in the Yamuna. He recognised her; had seen two young men standing next to a BMW throttle her and then throw her off the bridge. And she had seen him drive past in a daze that midnight, only slowing down a bit, but not stopping.
He did not see her again.
Flash Fiction 2014 Longlist, Priyanka Dharamsi
Only You
I wish you could see me right now.
Because only you would have noticed the changed nuances of my face.
Only you.
If you would have, you would have noticed my lips before anything else.
I would have caught you smiling naughtily on the thoughts of biting them.
Or you would have asked "You painted your lips didn't you?"
You would have noticed my smile and said, "It's nothing in comparison to the smile you gave me then. That was the widest."
You would have slowly tucked a few strands of my hair behind my ear. You would have even bent down a bit to kiss me below my right ear.
Or perhaps, you would have just noticed the extra kohl in my eyes today.
And in a closer look, realized, it's smudged.
And then noticed the dried tears on the cheeks...
Because only you would have noticed the changed nuances of my face.
Only you.
If you would have, you would have noticed my lips before anything else.
I would have caught you smiling naughtily on the thoughts of biting them.
Or you would have asked "You painted your lips didn't you?"
You would have noticed my smile and said, "It's nothing in comparison to the smile you gave me then. That was the widest."
You would have slowly tucked a few strands of my hair behind my ear. You would have even bent down a bit to kiss me below my right ear.
Or perhaps, you would have just noticed the extra kohl in my eyes today.
And in a closer look, realized, it's smudged.
And then noticed the dried tears on the cheeks...
Flash Fiction 2014 Longlist, G S Vasukumar
When You Grow Up!
“Son, what you want to be when you grow up?”
“I don’t know yet, dad.”
“Okay, where do you want to live then?”
“Some place far away from here.”
“You may not have this kind of freedom elsewhere…”
“Who cares, dad? I’m really bored being a stupid elephant in this boring jungle!”
“Son, what you want to be when you grow up?”
“I don’t know yet, dad.”
“Okay, where do you want to live then?”
“Some place far away from here.”
“You may not have this kind of freedom elsewhere…”
“Who cares, dad? I’m really bored being a stupid elephant in this boring jungle!”
Flash Fiction 2014 Longlist, Ananya Sarkar
Long Distance Call
“Hello?”
“Shubho! How are you dear?”
“Well, things are continuing as usual here. I’m good.”
“No... I haven’t been able to give away your father’s things. It’s only been a few months since his demise...I think I need more time.”
“Yes, I understand. By the way, are you visiting this Christmas?”
“Oh ...I was looking forward to cooking your favourite fish, making pickles for the kids...”
“Is it really important?”
“Okay. Hey, can I talk to the girls? Oh yes. I remember. Long distance call. I know dear, but I feel so nervous about using the Internet with no one by my side.”
A gust of wind blows through the window, ruffling the frail woman’s grey strands, caressing her cheeks and making the deafening silence complete.
“Hello?”
“Shubho! How are you dear?”
“Well, things are continuing as usual here. I’m good.”
“No... I haven’t been able to give away your father’s things. It’s only been a few months since his demise...I think I need more time.”
“Yes, I understand. By the way, are you visiting this Christmas?”
“Oh ...I was looking forward to cooking your favourite fish, making pickles for the kids...”
“Is it really important?”
“Okay. Hey, can I talk to the girls? Oh yes. I remember. Long distance call. I know dear, but I feel so nervous about using the Internet with no one by my side.”
A gust of wind blows through the window, ruffling the frail woman’s grey strands, caressing her cheeks and making the deafening silence complete.
Flash Fiction 2014, First Prize, Verina Berryl Rasquinha
Just Another Night
Pallid sketches of twilight dance on the frontiers of his face. The creases on his wrinkly shirt murmur despicably as they stick to his withered body. He crawls closer to my feet.
I’m no drunkard’s mercy. I scoff.
I look up towards the sky. The moon was at its fullest tonight.
I see an overview of the houses that sat with their torsos clinging to each other. They mock at my loneliness.
Somewhere in the neighbouring streets, dogs howl wolfishly.
I look down at the man gathered at my feet and imagine his wife sitting by the window in anticipation of her husband as she puts her children to sleep.
The stars of the sky camouflage as sunlight creeps with the first breath of dawn. I dim out. I’m a street lamp and my work is over for the night. I close my eyes as the city comes to life.
Flash Fiction 2014, Second Prize, Paresh Tiwari
Beyond (A Haibun)
My evening walks often take me around the short neglected boundary of a cemetery. As the urgent horns of passing vehicles weave through the potholed roads, I can almost hear the pooling silence of the time-ravaged tombstones inside. None of my loved ones are buried here and yet the overgrown weed, the bare limbed trees, yellowing grass, a forgotten bunch of flowers, the puddle of wax from dead candles and the half-obliterated epitaphs in calligraphic Urdu beckon me like an old forgotten friend.
Every evening, I halt beside this collage of shadows and melting sun before moving on…
dew web…
the feeble struggles
of a housefly
the feeble struggles
of a housefly
Flash Fiction 2014 M S Sathyanarayana
Dyspnoea
“He’s choking” I cried looking at that sixty plus old man in a dhothi and a tattered wet shirt.
“Dyspnoea!” commented my friend Rajan staring at him.
“What’s dyspnoea?” I yelled.
The rain-lashed black-top road was
looking like a crawling snake. That desolate bus-shelter beside that
village road was damp and leaking. The old man settled on the cement
bench was panting, coughing and staring into the skies as if he’s
waiting to see the angels from heaven or agents of the Hades.
His wife was pressing his back and saying, "Wait! The rain will stop soon... It won’t take much time.”
I cried at her, “Give him his inhaler!”
“What’s inhaler?” she asked.
“I mean inhaler; O’ God!” I cried.
“How do they know about inhaler?” Rajan said coolly.
I cried at her, “Give him his inhaler!”
“What’s inhaler?” she asked.
“I mean inhaler; O’ God!” I cried.
“How do they know about inhaler?” Rajan said coolly.
Ignoring my friend, I cried again,
“Don’t you have any medicine ready?"
"Something like deriphyllin or salbutamol?”
“Don’t you have any medicine ready?"
"Something like deriphyllin or salbutamol?”
I didn’t wait for her
reply and rushed into the rain and reached the street corner and asked a
passer-by, “Where’s the medical shop here?”
“No medical shop here, in
fact up to a distance of 20 kms.” he replied.
“No medical shop?!” Stunned, I shouted aloud.
He added, “That old couple live in a small hut. Even a small rain is enough to make them run. They come to this bus-shelter and remain till the rain abates. It’s usual for them. Don’t worry. Once the rain abates, they go back to their hut.”
He added, “That old couple live in a small hut. Even a small rain is enough to make them run. They come to this bus-shelter and remain till the rain abates. It’s usual for them. Don’t worry. Once the rain abates, they go back to their hut.”
Returned to the bus-shelter and cried at her
“Take him to the town by next bus...his condition is serious. We’re riding on a motor bike. It’s too risky to drive him town”
We returned to town, but remained my heart guilty.
We returned to town, but remained my heart guilty.
“I could have done better than leaving that old man like that” I thought.
Next morn, Rajan called over phone, “Read today’s news? The old man died.''
Flash Fiction 2014 Shortlist Neelam Saxena Chandra
Heartless
There was a large bungalow on the
furthest corner of the street. It would always be spick and span with
no trace of dust even in the monsoons. The bungalow had a mulberry
tree. I simply adored those luscious red fruits. Now and then, I would
jump over the fence and pluck them.
Once in a while, I would peep in through the window. Its décor
was fabulous. My child mind would often wonder how it would be to live
in such a house. My own house looked not only tiny, but also untidy.
One day, while I was trying to pluck those mulberries, I heard a
loud shriek followed by continuous wailing. Someone was being hit. I
ran away. In the evening, I heard that the daughter-in-law of the house
was killed in a freak accident. Suddenly, my house appeared large and
well-kept. After all, it had a heart.
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