In the heat of the summer, when the earth seemed to breathe a collective sigh, Radhika found herself standing in the attic of her grandmother's ancestral home in the small village of Haripad. The house, a crumbling relic of the Travancore architecture, had always been a place of mystery, with its faded wooden floors and peeling walls. It was as though the house itself was a museum of forgotten years, with every object in it holding a story no one dared to tell. Radhika, however, had always been fascinated by those untold stories. Now, at twenty-eight, after years of living in the bustling chaos of Bangalore, she had returned to the house, seeking answers, seeking... something. She didn’t know what. But she felt it, like a whisper in her bones—something pulling her back to this place, to this family, to the legacy that felt incomplete. Her grandmother, whom she called Muthassi , was old. Old in a way that felt eternal, as if she had always existed, perched in her corner of the house...
This was the year when I had seen the US land, a second time. I came back to Bangalore after a while, went to Jaipur to my parents and came back again to Bangalore. By now, I had a severe urge to go to Kerala, and to see my grand parents and other relatives. So I packed my bag as soon as I got an opportunity to go to Kerala. It had always been an exiting affair for me to go to Kerala (yeah, except only one time at the time of demise of my uncle). There's a train or buses always running to and fro from Kerala to Bangalore; Only during seasonal times (times of festivities like the Onam or X'mas) you won't get any tickets even 2 months before. Anyways, I had the train ticket this time, and I started on a Thursday evening after the office hours. The roads at the BTM Layout were as usual, full of their crowds; bystanders, vehicles, two-wheelers rattling against each other. I put my backpack on my shoulders, as if a kid is going to a school, and started walking to the BTM Bus sta...
Ravi was on his third cup of chai that evening, huddled by the small, open fireplace in his family’s old stone cottage. Outside, the mountain town of Manali lay still, bathed in moonlight, each street corner covered in a pristine blanket of fresh snow. He could hear the faint sounds of holiday cheer wafting up from the distant marketplace, where vendors sold roasted chestnuts, fresh apples, and handmade woollen shawls to the few tourists braving the winter chill. He hadn’t been back to Manali in nearly five years. His world now was in Delhi, where he worked as an investment analyst, living a life of constant deadlines and traffic snarls. But here, surrounded by his childhood home’s familiar smells of pinewood and burning embers, his heart felt like it could finally breathe. And tonight, he needed that peace more than ever. Ravi sighed, his breath fogging in the chill of the room as he remembered his recent breakup. He’d been with Neha for two years, a relationship filled with promises ...
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