Stories from India – From railway platforms to family kitchens, from monsoon evenings to festival mornings — real India, told in English with warmth and honesty.
Reading Time: 2 minutesRamesh worked in a small accounts office near Dadar station. Every morning at eight, his wife Sunita packed his tiffin — the old steel one with a dent on the lid, wrapped twice in cotton cloth so it would stay warm on the train. He never thought much about it.
Reading Time: 3 minutesThe signboard outside Gopal Kaka’s shop had lost most of its paint years ago. Only three letters still held colour — the “C,” the “L,” and the “E” — so the children of Ratangarh called it simply “the CLE shop.” Inside, the walls were lined with tyres of every size,
Reading Time: 4 minutesIn Devgarh, the highway had stopped sending its buses down the old lane years ago, but the bus stop was still there — a rusted iron pole, a concrete bench worn smooth, a tin roof that rattled whenever the wind picked up. Every evening, without fail, Keshav Anna walked the
Reading Time: 2 minutesIn Class 5-C of the Zilla Parishad school in Latur, forty-six children sat elbow to elbow, three to a bench meant for two, and the fan overhead groaned more than it cooled. Every morning began the same way. Their class teacher, Wagh Sir, called the roll from a register held
Reading Time: 2 minutesBaburao Deshmukh reached platform two hours before the train was due. He always did. The station master, Prakash, had stopped asking why years ago. He simply nodded from his little glass office and let the old man take his usual bench — the one with blue paint peeling in the
Reading Time: 2 minutesKabir hated Sunday nights the most, though he could never explain why to anyone. Monday meant a spelling test. Monday meant Mrs Iyer calling on students who hadn’t raised their hands. Monday meant everything that could go wrong, replaying in his head the moment his mother switched off the light.
Reading Time: 2 minutesArjun could set his watch by the residents of Sunshine Apartments — not because he tried to, but because Ramlal kaka never let him forget who arrived when. “Sharma sir’s car, ten past nine,” Ramlal would say, “always ten minutes late from his badminton.” “Who cares,” Arjun muttered to his
Reading Time: < 1 minuteThe mango tree was enormous. It filled the whole backyard in Kerala. Its branches touched the evening sky. Anju was watering the tulsi plant. She heard a small thud. Something had fallen near the roots. It was a squirrel. Tiny. Still. Its eyes were open and frightened. Anju knelt down
Reading Time: 2 minutesThe houseboat rocked. Just a little. The way a cradle rocks when someone who loves you is pushing it. Zara lay under her quilt and stared at the wooden ceiling. Outside, Dal Lake made its quiet night sounds — water against the hull, a distant bird, the creak of the
Reading Time: 2 minutesThe banyan had been standing behind the school since before anyone in the village could remember. Its aerial roots had grown so thick over the years that the children used them as doorways — ducking under one root to enter their secret world, ducking under another to leave. Meera had
