By Mosarrap H. Khan
A strong gust of wind almost threw her off. She felt the first few drops of cold rain on her skin. It excited her and made her want more. Mehru stood in the middle of the courtyard with her face lifted to the sky in anticipation. The large drops of rain lashed against her face, making her feel a stinging pain.
By Rabindranath Tagore
The other boys were overjoyed to see these results almost before the games had started in earnest, but Photik became very anxious. Makhan scrambled up immediately and attacked Photik, hitting him with blind rage.
By Rabindranath Tagore
This morning, the sun is beaming from time to time, a wind is blowing swiftly, tamarisk and lychee trees are sashaying and rustling in a sway, a variety of birds are calling out in as many different ways to enliven the forest’s morning assembly. Sitting in this large, companion-less bright and open second-floor room, I am delighted to see a row of boats on the canal and, across it, a village flanked by trees on both sides.
By Akshatha Shetty
Despite the early onset of winter, the scorching heat of Rajasthan enslaves every soul. Dust rose and settled like smoke from a dragon’s flared nostrils. Far ahead, we heard the familiar chattering of three Rajasthani women clad in vibrant colors. Their hips swayed to the tunes of the earth, while their shoulders bore the burden of poverty.
