Author: Indireads Editor

Our second submission is the first part of a short story, not a full manuscript, so judge it accordingly! Constructive criticism is welcomed by all. However, any comments that are overly derogatory in nature will be removed. Please keep in mind that the author, while anonymous, will be reading your feedback. Submissions posted here are not edited and/or proof-read by Indireads.

If you are an author hoping for some feedback on the first 800 words of your unpublished manuscript, you can submit your work here.

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Genre: Romance

‘Ha ha ha ha…her guffaws rang out in waves across the quiet green expanse and the laughing river flowing beside them.

He smacked her leg playfully, the look in his eyes more eloquent than a dozen words.

She was piggy-backing, her legs wrapped around his waist, arms around him. He staggered, stabilised and then walked on the narrow raised strip between the rice fields

They weighed almost the same. Their height almost the same, pointy nosed and voluptuous mouthed, they both had dusky-bronze skin. They could well have been siblings. They were not.

Nitin and Barkha

There’s so much to do. Barkha pulled herself out of her easy chair, tucking a silvery grey wisp of hair behind her ear. The morning Sun, no longer soft, had begun to scorch her skin.

She had begun to lie down in the old easy chair very often.

Nitin’s grandfather had a few of the chairs carved from the best rosewood and they lay in the veranda that overlooked the back yard. Old and black, the wooden chair still gleamed. There were scratch marks all over made by the scores of children that had sat on it. Namely Barkha and her siblings; her brood: two daughters and a son.

On weekends Barkha and Nitin had sat there, just like they did now, though not ‘just’ like now, she thought. Back then, their children ran amuck in the green yard playing and screaming, stopping to snack from any one of the many fruit trees that they fancied. Things were different then.

She had kept back one chair for herself and one for Nitin. The rest had been given away to admiring relatives.

She glanced at Nitin.

He smiled at her. Vacant faced.

Like someone trying to recognise her.

Nowadays every time he looked at her, he was like that.

Like a child looking for something.

Or even a dithering idiot trying to figure out something remotely intelligent.

She smiled back.

He was a shell of his former self.

“I am going indoors now. Will you stay here”?

“Yes,” he smiled again, his eyes crinkling against the glare of the Sun, numerous fine lines on his once smooth face. He didn’t mind the Sun.

“Getting my dose of vitamin D,” he said.

She shook out her salt and pepper hair from the knot which had come lose, tied them up into a tight knot that made a certain statement and marched in through the back door.

She found that the maid, had sneaked in and was now at the kitchen sink, washing spinach in quick, sharp swishes, trying to get the cumbersome task out of the way before Barkha descended on her.

On hearing her footsteps, the maid changed her modus-operandi with lightening speed. She took the colander which she was meant to use and started to go slow, washing a few leaves at a time, under running water.

Barkha smiled at the little deception and filled the electric kettle. Another cuppa wouldn’t hurt.

The sounds of the boiling water sucked her mind into a whirlpool of thoughts which usually boiled below the surface of her cool exterior.

One cold morning in Coonoor, five years ago, the tea kettle screamed for attention, gave up and had burnt itself beyond repair.

Nitin wouldn’t recognise her.

Her Nitin. The one she knew right from college.

“Nitin, wake up.  Let’s go for a walk,” she had curled up next to him in an effort at drawing him out of his warm quilt.

A month ago he had given up his position as Manager of the tea plantations he worked for, since the last ten years. They had saved up a tidy sum so she wasn’t worried on that front.

Our first anonymous selection for Feedback Fridays. Constructive criticism is welcomed by all. However, any comments that are overly derogatory in nature will be removed. Please keep in mind that the author, while anonymous, will be reading your feedback. Submissions posted here are not edited and/or proof-read by Indireads.

If you are an author hoping for some feedback on the first 800 words of your unpublished manuscript, you can submit your work here.

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Genre: Romance

FROM somewhere in the room my phone buzzed to the riff of Metallica’s ‘Master of puppets. I squirmed in my sleep, and ignored Hetfield’s intense guitar playing. However, as it began to get louder I couldn’t take it anymore and gave in.

In semi-drowsy state I rose to my feet and started locating the boom-box.

It wasn’t on the work-table, it wasn’t anywhere around the pile of clothes, or my Java and other android books, or the pile of clothes in the shelves of the open cupboard.

“Stop you frigging monster!” I shouted in frustration.

Finally I found it hiding from me behind my laptop. I wasted not a second pressing the cancel button, and put an end to the crazy mayhem.

Rubbing the corner of my eye with a finger I looked at the time. The screen showed 10:30. 10:30!

I almost panicked. But soon realized that I didn’t even have the time to panic – I was already too late. I rushed to the basin, washed face, and brushed teeth. After changing into formals I put a sandwich from last night into the microwave. While it heated up, sitting on the sofa I put on my shoes.

With the sandwich clutched in hand, and the backpack slung on shoulder I made way to the main street as fast as possible. An auto from there and I was soon onboard metro train.

I worked through all of it so fast that I seriously considered timing myself next time.

Yes, indeed there would be a ‘next time’. It was the typical routine. Life as an android-app developer could be really frazzling and demanding, contrary to what many people imagine.

The moment I stepped on the road I started pacing to the office. I considered boarding a bus – even though the office was barely two km away it would still save me plenty of time – but no bus passed by me that day.

When I was still halfway to the office, then as if being late, and with no bus coming my way was not bad enough already, the grey sky exploded. And it didn’t rain water, but cats and dogs!

I took shelter under the nearest tree and waited for the rain to stop. But apparently, there was no stopping to it. If anything, it seemed to be getting intense.

Finally I gave up, and holding the backpack above my head I started running towards my office. I didn’t have a choice after all. Reaching the office doused in rain was still better than getting reprimanded for reaching late. That especially on the day when one of the biggest projects Mobisoft had received was to be completed and sent to the client.

As I stepped inside the office I immediately felt relieved – it was so cozy and warm there. Luckily, and surprisingly, I didn’t get too wet and just swabbing of handkerchief on the neck and hands did the trick.

I stood in front of the fingerprint scanner and pressed my index finger on the red slide to mark my attendance.

“Please wait for a few seconds” the female pre-recorded voice from the device said.

“Sorry! Please try again.” came the response. I rubbed my finger on my trousers and tried again. But again the response was the same. “Please try again”. Once more. “Please try again” And once more. “Please try again.”

“Damn it!”

“Hey, you better get a new finger. Your current one is not working.” Dushyant said as he passed by me and sniggered. A few others also joined him from their desks.

Ignoring the remark, as well as my attendance, I walked to my desk and slumped into the chair.
About Dushyant’s behavior, it was not that I had any choice. He was the project manager, team leader, whatever. You can call it anything you want. The thing is – he was a douche.

“Rough day, eh?” Ashish said.

“Just another normal day in my life.” I said as I placed my laptop on the table.

Other than Manav sir, the company head, Ashish was the only likeable and trustworthy person I found in the office. He was dark (in a good way), had good dressing sense, and was audacious. He could have easily mingled with any other guy in the office, even the influential ones. But instead he chose me to stick with, working from the desk right next to mine.