As we make our way through the first week of the new year, take some time to savor the short fiction we shared on The Aerogram in 2014. Sweet, sour, spicy, salty, bitter — you’ll find these flavors and more to appreciate in these literary bites. If you’re still craving more after these stories, seek out extra servings in our lit archives.
The Messenger by Niyantha Shekhar
…Ramanathan Iyer set the box down and pulled out a black and heavy device; it had a handle with curved ends and was connected by a short coil of wire to a base with a circular dial. He placed it on the table besides him, took the cup of tea from Appu’s wife, and told the couple that they were now the proud custodians of Neelapaakam’s first telephone. “The honorable Chief Minister has gifted this to your village. Take care of it like your own son,” he said, and glanced at eight-year-old Pappu standing in the corner of the room. (Full story.)
Reflections on a Warm Afternoon’s Vadi Biyyam by Maithri Vangala
My aunt and uncle sat on small, decorated stools, their backs facing the living room fireplace. One by one, five married women took from the large bowl filled with rice, turmeric and coconut and placed a handful of the mixture into the cloth spread on my aunt’s lap. My great aunt was hovering around the couple, directing the Vadi-Biyyam. She had planned her summer visit to the U.S. around this compulsory tradition, conducted every five years, honoring the inimitable bond between a mother and her married daughter. (Full story.)
The Perceptiveness of Parrots by Susmita Bhattacharya
…“I’m eighty today, you hear?” Colonel Dastoor laughed out loud. “Who would think that, eh? I have survived two wars. I have shot men down and been rewarded for that. Missed a bullet by a hair. For what? To live all alone in the twilight years. This war against loneliness is the hardest, Milady, and you have helped me through. Who knew, when I bought you, that you’d outlive us all? ” (Full story.)
Balloons by Aby Sam Thomas (Potluck)
As the balloon seller gingerly stepped into the compartment of the Mumbai local train Madhavi and Amit were in, Madhavi’s eyes were immediately drawn to the riot of colour that he brought into the crummy blue interior of the train. A cluster of balloons in myriad colours, shapes and sizes, wove their way through the otherwise sordid confines of the compartment, which was empty, except for the three of them. (Full story.)
The Coat by Aditi Kay
I liked the coat the moment I saw it. Swinging lightly on its hanger, silver buttons gleaming. I draped it over myself and felt the new confidence surge into me. I wallowed in its warmth. My terribly ordinary existence as part-time usher in the city’s premier theatre drifted away and I could easily imagine myself one of the figures I always dreamt of when younger. (Full story.)
Dreamers by Chaitali Sen
As much as Shoma hated PM kindergarten, a few things delighted her: the size of the classroom, and the flood of sunlight from the windows along the length of the room, and a curved cloakroom hidden behind a sliding wall which doubled as a large blackboard. In the cloakroom, the pupils hung their jackets and bags on hooks, and Shoma imagined the jackets and bags and umbrellas, when it was raining, carrying on with each other in the shadow of the blackboard, talking and playing and having their own school. (Full story.)
The Great Sari and Mango Novel – Part I by Anita Felicelli
Years after Anish’s death, Vivek spent his twin brother’s birthday leafing through photographs, musing on the trick of fate that caused Anish to succumb to alcoholism while he found solace with wild animals. Shiny images of a trip they had taken together in their twenties. Lions, zebras, elephants, hyenas — animals sighted from a jeep on safari at dawn or seconds before twilight when the sun ebbed crimson at the horizon. Several prints of Anish smoking at their cousin’s lavish midsummer wedding in Johannesburg. (All of Part 1 and the rest of the series.)
The Art of Letter Writing in an Ancient World by Aman Sen
…All she expected in return, along with quick marriages and multiple babies, her expectations made clear even when I was barely 10 years old, were handwritten responses to her letters addressing her as the “venerated god-mother.” A title that was as obsolete as her worldview. But I obliged nevertheless, partly because butter was in short supply. (Full story.)
Smokers ♥ Company by Mustafa Abubaker
The winds have picked up these nights, gusts of air sweeping away slight clouds of marijuana smoke and remnants of unspoken thoughts, dissipating into the atmosphere. Welcome to the real word, a utopia interrupted, disregarded for and yet, suitable for the way Nabila feels when her heart shatters, the way Suhaj feels when his mind wanders, the way they both feel when they run into each other; disconcerted, almost embarrassed. (Full story.)
The Lover by Karthick RM
…A buffalo, its behind covered with its own filth, made its way to a dump and gave a loud grunt before beginning its morning meal. In the narrow lane, the salty wind carried with it the stench of garbage and the smell of piping hot idlis. But there was a whiff of jasmine whose sudden appearance coincided with the ringing of temple bells. She was in half-sari. She left with half of me. Evanescence… (Full story.)
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