Fiction

 The little girl raced through the  narrow  service lane  which took her  to the bank of  the  nearby  stream.  The gurgling water  glistened  under the  bright afternoon Sun. It being the  summer  afternoon , it was quiet  all around. The little girl was always fascinated by this stream mainly  because of  the stones that lay at the bottom of the stream whose clear water  made them visible to the eye  in all details. The stones  no longer  looked like the dull grey stones lying around  on the bank but took a life of their  own. She would sit closest to the stream,  at the same time, being   cautious of the  moss covered slippery steps  of the bank. These were the idyllic moments for her.  She sat there  unperturbed  with curious  eyes looking  at the flow of water over the  shimmering stones .The clear water rippled fo...

 i need to stop thinking. Thinking means entering the past  and  pushing one into the abyss of  recall and recoil.  They had reached the  place  where her son  was  residing.  It  was quite a long route from  the airport to  this  place. It was doted on both sides with vast stretches of empty fields  and sparsely lined trees on both sides  of the road. The open and the vast areas  veered a little towards barrenness. It was a long haul from the airport to her son's residence. They got down and after paying the  cab driver, who all along  played  Hindi  songs, and giving them furtive looks for their  appreciation, perhaps  he could fathom that they were Indians, having  driven a lot of them ,since vast number of Indians  immigrated to  America  constantly. But it was quite surprising to  her,  being new to this country, and at the same time she w...