Language Doctor

  THE SCARS THAT REFUSE TO HEAL - Fiction The saddest day of my life was the Thursday night my Dad passed away! It would remain an indelible experience. Before that Thursday, however, I had had another ‘saddest day of my life’; another Thursday, three years earlier, when my paternal grandmother kicked the bucket. Death snatched her away at the age of 84. Grandma and I were devotedly intimate. She treasured me like I was some crucial part of her body! The feeling was mutual – I would fall sick if I didn’t speak with grandma for a stretch of five days. So, her demise hurt me more than a bee sting would and the shock lingered for two months – the protracted denial, the sudden outburst, the secret and silent blasphemies, the introversion, etc. Dad’s staunch support gradually helped the pains ease. My situation provided him the opportunity to refine his sense of humour; to become incredibly funnier. His jokes would tickle tears out of me, so much that the stubborn pains haunting me st...

It was Friday, after school. It had been a hectic hot day for Krishna. School had been taxing, with seemingly endless lessons and unexciting after-school events. Nature had even worsened the situation, with the sun’s scorching rays furiously and relentlessly pouring on earth, stinging skins and beating sweats out of tortured skins. As Krishna was being driven home by her parents’ driver, the air conditioning in the car, seemingly blowing hot, wouldn’t help to lessen her uneasiness. She felt uncomfortable through most part of the journey and at some point, she wished the car, like those found in fairy tales, could develop wings and just fly her home.  It had been forty minutes since she arrived home. After having her bath and taking her lunch, she felt it’s time to visit Samantha, her best friend, whom she fondly called ‘Sammy’. She and Sammy had always exchanged visits during weekends, the only time they had, to be friends, physically, aside from their irregular virtual bonding du...