The girl and her parents reached the village late at night. The storm that had slowed down their bus had now cleared. While her parents talked to Ammavan and Ammayi, the girl’s eyes were searching for Chechi.

A sleepy-eyed older girl entered the room just then and smiled at the assembled guests. The girl thought she looked beautiful, more beautiful than her faint memories (or imagination??) of Chechi before the girl left for the far away city with her parents. Her mother often remarked wryly that the girl used to always follow Chechi around and had to be pried away with great difficulty on the day they moved to the city. Try as she might, the girl could not remember anything except a pretty pink skirt with a green border and zari work on it….. (more)

Excerpts from my story, ‘The Pink Skirt‘  posted in the Kathasagar series at INDImag.

Some other interesting ones:

A Wild(e) Experience


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