My story The Perpetual Traveller has been published in an online literary community called New Asian Writing and I am very excited about it. New Asian Writing compiles short stories, essays, novel extracts and poetry from Asian countries. At the end of each year they publish and Anthology of short stories in print. New Asian Writing has a collection of enthralling short stories by both aspiring and published authors. What is interesting about NAW is that it houses short stories from all corners of Asia. So you might be reading a story about a culture you have not read about earlier. Please ready my story there and enjoy it and please do not forget to leave a comment.

Thank you and have a wonderful day!

http://www.new-asian-writing.com/2369/the-perpetual-traveller/

The computer-generated image of a T-rex, devours a smaller raptor in a feast of carnage.  The documentary drones on the bright screen while the three year old cavorts in front of a flat screen TV; the nine year old grumbles but sits on the dining table doing his homework nevertheless. Sharp smell of garlic hits the air as soon as small, diced bits sizzles in hot oil. The mother tackles dinner as usual. Chicken curry with rice, the only dish that each member of this family relishes without complaint.

In the land of rain
Monsoons in the North-Eastern part of India can be extremely cumbersome with nothing but endless stretches of rainy days and nights for months and months. Moist, mouldy rooms and the ubiquitous smell of half wet clothes, are what greets you in every household in the hills during monsoons. Imagine, having to live under incessant showers of rain for most part of the year? We did. We laughed and we lived and we played under outspread umbrellas and duck-back raincoats and heavy black gumboots. Were we happy? I think we were partly oblivious to the future and partly vague about our short pasts, but then we lived in the present. The present was all that mattered to us, and what a glorious present it was! Yes we were happy! We were the happiest that anybody could be.

What do you want to become when you grow up?
We were oblivious to the future in the sense that we did not care much about tomorrow as we did about today, except for the fact that it was compulsory for all of us to know what we wanted to become when we grew up. Thus like parrots we would recite and re-recite words ingrained into our delicate brains after having the vividest of ideas of what we wanted to become when we grew up. Doctor, Lawyer, Police, Businessman, Princess, Teacher, Singer, Actor were scores of ambitions presented by eager piping voices.

Tumultuous smoke from the funeral pyre rose upwards, blending with grey smog that already hung over the groaning city of Kathmandu. A sharp bitter smell assailed Hari’s nostrils almost choking him, but he gulped it down like water, and his eyes stung from smoke. Only yesterday Geeta had been there with him, bright and jovial when she was at her best, foul-tempered and bickering when she was at her worst but, she had been there and her presence in his life had made a conspicuous difference.