The Bangalore Review

Pishi’s car had still not pulled out of the driveway. Inside the house, Baba’s door closed on us. Under the yellow porch bulb that was..

They say drowning hurts.  Really, really hurts. They say it’s excruciating and scarier than you can imagine.  I suppose that makes sense, given that water..

I was dressed in a ghastly shade of pink, bright and sugary, like a Popsicle. My skin reeked of sun block and bug repellant. The..

Genevieve wanted a leprechaun. She’d never held a leprechaun. She’d never even seen one, not a real live one, but when Papa spoke and when..

He was running wildly, panting for breath as his heart beat furiously like a terrified bird trying to break out of its cage. They were..

Twenty years ago, they were madly in love. She loved him so much that she left her long-term boyfriend for him and moved to a..

Rels meant relatives. Cooz stood for cousin. Fat was for father. This new lingo exasperated me. I bit my nails every time I heard it..

In the late 1980s, Bombay (now Mumbai) had morphed into a rebellious teenager, the child of loving philanthropic parents but an incomplete adult, a poster-child..

I haven’t been homeless all my life.  There was a time when I had a cozy bed to sleep in and a fine roof over..