#celestialmetoo

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It was a moody Bangalore evening that could not decide if it felt too hot or too cold. I unzipped my jacket for the tenth time that evening as I approached the bar. I checked the location of my meeting again, it was supposed to be this bar. Maybe there was some mistake, I couldn’t imagine meeting my source in such a shady place. It wouldn’t be safe for her, I wasn’t even sure if it was safe for me.

“I am near the location, where are you?” I messaged her.

“I can see you. Please come inside…” her reply was prompt. I looked up at the windows of the bar lit with a dramatic blue colour, I couldn’t see anyone.

The loud music flowing out of the bar made my heart flutter and my groin thump.

Well, I did desperately need a story for this week. If nothing else I could write about my own assault in this place. Read more

Free magazine of the month

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Hello everyone,
This issue of the write club magazine is currently free on Amazon. It has amazing stories by great upcoming writers.

Do grab a copy here: http://amzn.in/d/1ULoMYh

and let us know what you think of our work.

For reading more of our work, and even to contribute yours, do visit our website https://writeclub.in
My story in the magazine is titled ‘The Sporulation of Sarpanch Sam’. It is a science fiction story in which strange spores have wiped out most of the human population. These spores have fused with the genomes of the remaining humans to form a new species of photosynthetic humans who learn to live in harmony with nature.
Please read the story and let me know what you think of it.

Here is an excerpt from the story:

As Sam saw his reflection in the mirror he was sure that he would be dead soon. It had been long since he had last thought of death and this time he found himself strangely content at the idea of it like he was reaching the end of a good story. The sun was rising and it highlighted the pinkness of his skin. It was the first time since he had been infected half a century ago that he was seeing his skin again. He had lost most of the fungal mycelium covering his skin. Even his hair was losing its green color and becoming black, he had forgotten how black his hair had been. There was no denying it anymore, the fungal part of his genome had made its decision and he was going to sporulate soon. He turned around to check his back and it was smooth as humans! Just a week ago it had been covered in what looked like a forest of thin and long umbrella-like trees.

He allowed himself a bit of nostalgia, the occasion called for it he thought. His life had changed more than fifty years ago when he had first heard of the outbreak of the fungal infection. It had been referred to as ‘the mycelium’ as if it were a mob family. But Sam, like a lot of other people, had not taken it seriously, it was a fungal infection after all, how dangerous could it be? But it had proven to be worse than the black plague, millions of people and even more animals were dead in weeks. It was a worldwide panic and soon the whole globe seemed to be covered in mold, like it were a week-old piece of bread. The fungal spores were everywhere, in the air, the water, and the soil, there was no way of escaping them. The spores even thrived in the most common soaps and disinfectants. Most of the cities and even several countries were dead in a matter of months, but the mycelium continued to thrive.

He had lost all of his family and friends to the fungal spores but he remembered his dog the most clearly. One day the dog had come back with a patch of green on her nose. He had thought that it was probably grass that she had rolled in. By the morning, the dog had been entirely covered in a web of white and green strands as if someone had covered her with noodles as a prank. There was nothing they could do, but drench her in a ton of disinfectant and drag her as far away from home as they could. But that same evening his grandmother also caught the spores. She took several baths in disinfectant and all the anti-fungal medicines she could get her hands on, and it seemed to slow the infection by a few minutes at best. When she knew she was beyond rescue she just decided to walk away and leave her loved ones alone. Of course, none of them would agree to it and hence they all followed her, walking a few feet behind her not knowing where they were going.

By the end of the second day, grandmother had been completely covered in the mycelium and refused to eat anything as she was not hungry. By the fourth day, she looked more like a green fluffy stuffed toy and less like a human. That day, when they woke up, she was gone. They searched long and hard for her before realizing that she had sporulated and there was nothing left of her. She had swollen like a ripe pod, and she made a balloon-like popping noise and burst open releasing millions of tiny pollen-like spores, that scattered in all directions and hung around them. By then both his parents had also grown green patches on them.

In a week he had lost everyone he cared for in a cloud of spores, in what seemed like a  weird pilgrimage where everyone literally seemed to become one with everything. By the end of the week, he did not doubt that he would be infected, he just wished that it had happened before everyone else.

 

Ria auntie’s arrival

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I yawned at the arrival terminal of the international airport, trying to open my mouth as wide as the gates. It was a Sunday morning and I was at the airport to receive Ria aunty. There should be a law about not allowing relatives to travel on Sundays. I made a mental note to start an online petition for a such a law. I half-heartedly held up the homemade sign that read “Ria aunty” in glaring pink letters, that my sister had made. You see, I hadn’t met Ria aunty. Of course, my mother said I had, at a wedding when I was five. But, I don’t remember it, the most I can recall is a silk saree clad wall of fat lumbering over to pull my cheeks until they turned red and tousle my hair. There might have been a bear hug that engulfed me in a cloud of cheap perfume and almost made me faint. I decided I had repressed the memory on purpose and didn’t dwell on it further.

The flight was announced and there was the usual flurry of people exiting the airport, but there was no sign of Ria aunty. As the last people from the plane left I felt my heart lighten. Maybe Ria aunty had suffered a heart attack, ok that was harsh, maybe she had just fractured her hip, whatever the reason was she was not here and that meant one less thing to take care of for the occasion. I turned around to leave when I heard the slow creaking of a wheelchair. Two of the airport staff emerged, one pushing a mound of luggage and the other pushing a figure in a wheelchair. I bit my tongue as I realised the figure in the wheelchair was Ria aunty. She was well dressed but looked pale almost like a wax statue. I felt sad for having thought so ill of her. I promised myself to strive to be a better person. I walked towards Ria aunty. Read more

Kill your darlings

book-heart-love-6369“You are joking, right? You have got to be joking.” Ria’s laughter echoed in the basement parking lot. She sounded amused like he had actually cracked a joke but Samir could see the shadow of fear in her large brown eyes.

She pushed her hair behind an ear and Samir stopped. He hated that she could still make him stop.

“But, why? Why would you even be thinking about it?” there was that voice again, like a feather caressing skin.

“Come on Ria, you have always known someone had to go.” Samir scratched behind his ear with his pen.

“Yes, of course, someone has to go…but I thought we agreed it was going to be the other woman…” there was just a small shiver in her voice like the feather had passed over a razor.

“We did agree on that, but…I decided against it…” Samir looked away from her, “people wouldn’t be as interested in the murder mystery of a middle-aged housewife as compared to…” he simply nodded in her direction.

“Already decided, huh? I thought we made always discussed before making any major decisions.” He could hear her heels, their metallic sound growing closer to him. He turned around and raised his hand, “No, Ria, stop.” Read more

Blind Date

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Nisha could hear them talking about the wedding already. She plucked silk threads from the pallu of her saree. She could not remember the last time she felt her parents had been inconsiderate of her. She had always brushed aside the issue of marriage, but arriving back from work and finding a family sitting in their living room had shocked her. She had not realized her parents were so keen on her getting married. Not that she didn’t look forward to it herself. But a heads up would have been good.

When she had entered the house her mother had hurried her into their bedroom and handed her her mother’s favorite silk saree, the one with the swans swimming along the pallu. That was when Nisha knew they were serious about this. She had expected to be called into the living room for a while now. And having waited for a while she was getting restless. She paced up and down the bedroom and put an ear to the door to try and hear what was being said. When she heard words like ‘dowry’ and ‘cooking’, she shook her head, opened the door and walked into the living room.

Nisha walked directly to the empty sofa opposite the prospective groom and sat down in it. An awkward silence followed in which the prospective groom and his parents stared at Nisha and her parents as if to ask how she had walked into their conversation unassisted.

Nisha folded her hands and raised them to the groom’s parents, “Namaste!” “ Hello…” she said to the groom. They seemed too dumbstruck because no one said anything.

The overhead fan could be heard creaking in the awkward silence. Her mother’s bangles clinked as she folded her hands nervously. Read more