Unsuni.com

A few years ago, I got this email from Manushree, my school friend who had relocated to London for a job. She and I had not kept in touch for a very long time and I happened to meet her via facebook once again. Here's what her email said... Dear Suni, I am not a regular on facebook. But today, on a whim, I decided to open my dormant, friendless, facebook  account. That’s when your friend request came at the most appropriate time. A spot of sunshine in my lifeless, colourless world. Living in this cold, grey country, I had been wondering for the past week, if I would ever feel the heat of the Indian summer again. The memories of our old days in India brought back some of the warmth in my blood…something which had been lacking for a very long time. Today, at work, a few of my colleagues went out for a drink. As usual, no one asked me. There I was sitting right in the middle of everyone, like a piece of old furniture. And everyone simply bypassed me. I’ve never felt...

A B.E.S.T. bus droned along noisily, and made its way through the labyrinth of cars, taxis, beggars and noxious fumes. The young man was good looking and in his mid-twenties. He sat in the fifth row behind the driver. Dressed in an impeccably crisp shirt and pants a pair of smart sun glasses only enhanced his profile. There was much to look outside the bus and observe…but he could not take his eyes off the woman who was sitting a few seats in front of him. Diagonally opposite to him, she sat in the seat which was reserved for women only. Image Courtesy The woman opened a small pouch and took out a small, ornate mirror. Taking a tissue she dabbed her face, and as she did so, she precariously turned her mirror towards the man. Her face relaxed and she smiled as she realized that he was sitting at his usual place. Their unspoken conversation began through the mirror. At first, she dabbed her face with compact powder and then gingerly, as and when the bus made its fir...

The Ladyfinger's story - Sunila Karir IT WAS early one morning at the vegetable market and activity was in full swing. “Potatoes, 10 rupees a kilo, jaldi lelo, jaldi,” a vendor cried out from one corner of the market.  “Green, Green peas, fresh from the farm,” yelled another farmer.  It was Tuesday and the vegetable market was very crowded. Vegetables of all types, shapes and sizes were brought here every Tuesday. It was the weekly market day you see, and people from all parts of the city came here to buy their weekly supply of fresh veggies at really rock bottom prices. Right in the middle of this cacophony was a tall heap of the greenest, most delectable looking ladyfingers. “Fry them crisp…make them yum, Bhindi is for everyone” The bhindiwallah cried out in his off key voice. Men and women were rummaging through the ladyfingers, carefully picking and choosing the best of the lot.   Now while all the ladyfingers were shiny and fresh and p...