For as long as I can remember, Amma had a secret special box on the kitchen platform which was always tantalizingly close but was just out of reach. When I was five years of age, I’ve always wanted nothing more than to open the box and see its mysterious contents. Nothing seemed fancier to me. Neither the blue flames erupting from the stove nor the sharp knife glinting under the harsh tube light. Even the colourful display of various cereals and pulses didn’t draw my attention as much as this box drew me towards it. Cover Photo by R. S. Chintalapati In reality, there wasn’t anything unique about the way the box looked. It was just like most others. A little steel utensil, plain and unobtrusive. However, it was inconspicuous to everyone except me and so I wanted to know everything it possessed. My fascination started when I was four years of age. I still remember returning from the hospital after a vaccination. I was bawling and the horrendous hospital smell was everywhere adding to my woes. I was red and misty with chocolate smeared over my round face after my parent’s last-ditch attempt to pacify me failed.

Available in an eBook! I shed tears for the loss of a chance at happiness. But I forgot that it was never mine, to begin with. I sigh as he leaves But I’m secretly glad of that as well.

Available in an eBook! I sat at the airport, staring at the bracelet, with a lot of disappointment. Slowly, I recalled the moments when I laughed with her, touched her silky hair, looked into her eyes, and heard her sweet voice, which always made me smile. Eshita… my enigma. As I was lost in my thoughts, a middle-aged man asked, “Could you take your bag?” Cover Photo by Prabhath Narapareddy Noticing that a lot of other seats were empty, I hesitantly picked up my bag, and he sat beside me. After he settled, he asked, “That’s a wonderful bracelet. Care to tell me the story behind it?” Noticing me confused, he continued, “I would like to kill some time. The plane to Stockholm is delayed by two hours.”