The Last Fifth (Part 2)

by Naru Dames Sundar

Anur cradled his face in his hands, his split lip still oozing blood.  It hurt, a kind of searing pain far greater than the dull ache of bruises he had suffered at the hands of the bullies at school.  He tried to run when the men had exited the van, tried to get away, but he had tripped and fallen amidst the smoke and the wreckage.  Bala, the man with the scraggly beard, hit him and dragged him by one arm back into the van.

The men had retrieved something from the wreckage.  Anur had only caught a glimpse of it, a charred sphere the size of a soccer ball, bits of wire dangling from it.  Tears welled in Anur’s eyes. He wanted to be at home, sitting on the big blue couch wrapped in a blanket while mummy fed him halwa and sweet tea with jasmine.  But his tears and his wants didn’t help him, they didn’t bring him any closer to freedom.

“Child.” (Continue Reading…)

The Last Fifth (Part 1)

by Naru Dames Sundar

Anur slumbered under the ledge of the sloping walkway, leaning on the housing of a small flower strewn altar to Ganesh.  Rain plinked onto the jasmine-filled votive bowls that lined the altars on the opposite wall. Anur blinked his eyes open, looking sideways at shafts of light breaking across the falling drops, shimmering gold as they drizzled onto the row of Shiva-lingam jutting out from the wall.  The narrow street still looked dry, yet the rain continued. The voices of two men spoke across the pitter patter of the falling drops.

“Do you trust the buyer, Kalan?  Can he really get Pankaj out of that mountain hell-hole?”

“The buyer has a reputation to uphold, Bale.  And I promised Amma that I would get him out somehow –”

“It leaves us very… exposed.”

“We’re exposed by being who we are, Bala.  All or nothing, my friend, all or nothing.” (Continue Reading…)