Taste some stories

Tales of violence...

“I can peel the skin off his face as I regard him at leisure. But his skin is so old and moth-eaten that logic tells me it cannot possibly be peeled off smoothly, it is too fragile for that and would only hang in shreds.”

“On some days I felt I was witnessing an evil moonrise on a dark planet. I would then sit crouched in a corner gazing about me with wide, horrified eyes.”

There was a good sharp fruit knife fallen off the coffee table in front of me. I picked it up and slashed at the sofa seat.”

“She leaned over the railing and looked down at the top of his head. It was a full head of wavy hair… She idly imagined dropping something heavy on him from above.”

…and tales of passion

“He is rich, he gifts me green contact lenses, and says I look so ravishing in them that he will not take no for an answer and that afternoon he makes love to me hungrily; I emerge out of virgin-hood in this way, feline and content.”

“Her bare waist, with just a hint of fat, showing through the drapes of the thin chiffon sarees she was so fond of, would make Mr Ghosh's heart flutter like a moth.”

“I was looking straight into Mili's eyes to stop myself from looking at the curves under her thin cotton top.”

… tales of Mumbai

“How tiresome Shevde was. He ought to be tied in a sack and thrown into the Arabian Sea.”

She made a pretty picture in the late afternoon sun, her long dark hair and white skirt stirring in the breeze, silhouetted against the sweeping blue-water arc of Queen’s Necklace. She appeared to be standing in a golden pool of light.”

…and a haunting tale of love set in London

“A loud crackling breaks through the dust and then melts into a deep voice, mellow like wood-smoked honey, gentle and heartbreaking as lips against skin… he sings a song of seduction, how playful, how tantalizing his invitation to fly to the clouds, to sing together and find a rainbow away from the crowds. He switches to Italian. I have no idea what the words mean.”