Fiction: On Life, Love And Our Desires
I am a teller of stories and therefore an optimist, a believer in the ethical bend of the human heart, a believer in the mind’s disgust with fraud and its appetite for truth, a believer in the ferocity of beauty. So, from my point of view, which is that of a storyteller, I see your life as already artful, waiting, just waiting and ready for you to make it art. ~ Toni Morrison
What Tomorrow Holds: A Powerful Short Story on Aging by Nadella Anuradha – English Translation of రేపటి చింత
“Mani!” The sound of her name pulled Mani from deep sleep. She did not move at once. Slowly, she turned toward the other side of the room, where Peddamma garu slept. In the dark she could make out the old woman sitting on the edge of her bed. Oh no. I hope she doesn’t...
Brown Eyes on America: A Fiction Anthology of Indian American Women
Fiction: On Life, Love And Our Desires I am a teller of stories and therefore an optimist, a believer in the ethical bend of the human heart, a believer in the mind's disgust with fraud and its appetite for truth, a believer in the ferocity of beauty. So, from...
I Buried Him Today – A Short Story By Rachana
I buried him today. Not the physical kind. But deep in my thoughts never to surface again. The first time I spotted him checking me out at a kid’s birthday party was in March. For the purpose of this story, I refuse to spell out his name. Because we both were engaging...
Brown Eyes on America: Stories, Essays, and Fiction from an Indian American Life
On Life, Love And Our Desires I am a teller of stories and therefore an optimist, a believer in the ethical bend of the human heart, a believer in the mind's disgust with fraud and its appetite for truth, a believer in the ferocity of beauty. So, from my point...
Nanna, Take Care of My Java – A Short Story By Rachana
I was sitting on my back porch this morning drinking tea, when I saw our neighbor, Vasu, walk over with Java tucked under his left arm. He was holding something bulky in his right hand. "Payal ji, here is a binder I made of all the letters we have received for Sid....
Agency – A Short Story By Rachana
I found out what happened to Nelson today. He was my gym buddy, but not in a way you would think one would be. "His family has moved him to another rehab center near Valdosta," his trainer at our gym told me as I checked in with him about Nelson. "If he can't find...
A Lifetime of Poems, Fiction & Essays – Read by Rachana
Hey, welcome! I write about the enduring human spirit via essays, stories, and poetry. This podcast is my way of bringing those pieces to life in audio, so you can listen while you’re on a walk, driving, cooking, or just needing a moment of reflection....
Yours Forever – Love and Reform Collide in New Delhi – A Short Story By Rachana
“When are you getting married Ky?!” These days, Anu texts him with her question. And her prank-playing boy was never far behind with a retort.. “It’s tomorrow mamma, didn’t you get my Evite?!” This time, the reply was puzzling. “Mom, I am moving to New Delhi at the...
The Room Was Empty, Except for Him – A Short Story By Rachana
Jeffrey had never worried about making a mark in this world or leaving a genetic legacy. He knew very well that outside of the retired teachers’ roster at Johns Creek High School in Georgia, he had no other identity. However, a few times he wondered if his loneliness...
Queen: A Powerful Short Story of Womanhood by Nadella Anuradha – English Translation of క్వీన్ – Part II
Continued from Part I - Madhuri fell silent. Was this really the same child who, until recently, would come running to them for everything, calling out “Amma, Nanna,” and shadowing their every move? Something about this moment felt different, as if a...
Queen: A Powerful Short Story of Womanhood by Nadella Anuradha – English Translation of క్వీన్ – Part I
What can I say about Pune that hasn’t been said yet? The city is just breathtakingly beautiful. Nudged deeply into the surrounding hills, its air has the scent of rain-soaked earth and the gentle hum of a city that still remembers how to slow down. Banyan trees crowd...
I Was Not There – A Short Story Collection By Rachana
2010: Rwanda: Genocide, Love and Resilience: This piece is close to my heart, as it is semi-autobiographical, but the story line is pure fiction. It is a tribute to a person in my life, who has been a great influence on me. His name, profession, his location...
Short Story Fiction: got tragedy ™
Diane sat in her car and thought about it. She decided that it was a NPR (National Public Radio) kind of a day. So, she turned on the radio and switched it from Q100, the more popular channel, to NPR. Andrew Pete and his BBC Newshour were on. To her, America’s...
This Time, Another Place. – A Short Story By Rachana
I Barring the phone, 4 year old Mira did not have to compete much with her brother for her father’s attention. 6 year old Rohan had his own iPad that he kept busy with. “Daddy, daddy, look, I am so sassy!! I am dancing, see? Daddy!” Mira screamed in thrills as...
A Novella – How Green Were Our Valleys – Part II
Continued from PART I - VII The next night, I lay in bed, wide eyed and wished for midnight to arrive fast. The night breeze gently blew the pale cotton curtains inside and out. I stared outside at the deep purple flowers in red potted plants in the...
A Novella – How Green Were Our Valleys
I I will try my best to not sound cynical. But, that's my natural monotone these days - never getting excited or disappointed about anything in life, in general. Call it the adapted bashfulness that comes with age, if you will. There is a prelude to every act...
Short Story Fiction: Some Dress Rehearsals Are For Dead Mothers – Part II
Continued From Part I HERE. - V In 2014, as the school year came to a close at the end of May , as I walked to the bus stop, I felt dreadful at the thought of the huge summer break of 10 weeks that was upon us. Children are a lot of fun, but aren't...
Short Story Fiction: Some Dress Rehearsals Are For Dead Mothers – Part I
I As long as I will live or drop dead tomorrow, no one will dispute the fact that I am an ordinary immigrant mother from India with spectacular hopes of raising my children with splendid grades on ALL their mark sheets, regardless of (for me atleast) whether my...
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