“Wake up, rascals. See who is here,” trills our aunt Sivamathi.
Her high-pitched shrill vibrates off her tongue against her palate and pierces through our sleep.
“It must be Muttu, that rickety idiot, come to torture us with puzzles,” I guess.
With sunshine trembling on our eyelashes and seeping into our bodies, we two brothers continue to stretch ourselves lazily.
Continue reading “Bulls and Blood, Line and Lineage by Chitra Gopalakrishnan”
The last paper boat. At least Herman hoped it was, watching it float away. Transported by the Danube to a world far from his own. A world without weapons and bombs. Without destruction. Where dreams didn’t die, where they weren’t shattered. Where men lived. He watched as it carried a tale of love, of loss, of grief and of war. Is that why they call it the Black sea, he wondered. All emotions coalescing to form a black, murky mass. Was the sea black inside, hiding behind a shade of blue, flowing nonchalantly. Like the people around him, hiding their sadness behind a smile. It will all be alright, they said. To others, to themselves. That it was destiny. There was nothing they could do, and the world would return to normalcy. It had to. Someday.
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