Resultados de "Anita Nair" en Todas las categorias

"Once in a while the cloud parts, and there comes a moon with the texture of Carrara. This marble orb has powers known to wizards and witches. The power to enchant and bewitch. To transform mortals into heavenly beings and their everyday act to sensuous excesses." Listen to "To...

"Someone - may be Arun - had drawn a pink heart on a yellow post-it and stuck in on her dashboard. Ila smiled at the pink heart and crumpled in into a ball. If only, she thought ruefully. She had his love and loyalty; as for his body, it was in offer for the pretty young boys he picked up...

It hangs there in the cupboard. Breathing in through its many pores the combined fragrance of mothballs and air-fresheners, and the mustiness of damp. A muddy grey, it falls from the outstretched arms of the hanger, the skin of a beast from which the soul has fled. Limp, lifeless and deceptively...

"The Witch stood at the intersection of 145th and Amsterdam Avenue and took a deep breath. The chill of the kerb perforated the ancient leather of her shoes, invaded her woollen socks and seeped into her bones" Listen to "the Witch Wife's Tale" written and narrated by Anita...

"Six o'clock. There is about this time a certain weariness. An intensity of grey that makes a man feel life is passing him by and that there is no way he can control what is happening to him. He is helpless, for how can he prevent the thickening of his arteries or the clouding of his eyes?...

"There is a world that huddles beneath the feet of every New Yorker. A subterranean realm of acrid grey, steamy lie and greasy fumes. In this devil basement, dank steel caterpillars, christened with molten metal alphabets on their deadpan foreheads, prowl hither and thither." Listen...

"There he sits. Tie-and-dye-robed, apple seeds coiled around his neck, beaming an aura of flower power. There he sits, deep in thought amidst his pot, roots, tubes, herbs, and the black cat with the raspberry tongue." Listen to "Come to bed, my Pretty" written and narrated...

It stood in a damp patch of soil, squat. forlorn, mostly weary. The small branches had been snapped off and now tiny mounds of gnarled bark waved their stumpy fists in the air in mute rage. Beneath the ground was a jagged edge where the axe had spliced through, shredding the pith into a million...

"The cat uncurled, It stretched and flexed. Then it blinked. Fish bones of sleep still clung to the cat. A queer kind of fatigue that rattled within his bones and hugged with the insistence of cankers. For a moment, the cat stared unseeingly. Then he allowed routine to take over"...

Akhila est employée aux impôts. Célibataire, cette quadragénaire n'a jamais été libre de mener sa vie comme elle l'entendait : toujours la fille, la sœur, la tante de quelqu'un, celle qui fait vivre la famille. Sur un coup de tête, elle prend un aller simple pour Kanyakumari, une petite ville balnéaire du sud de l'Inde. Dans l'intimité du sleeping le fameux "compartiment pour dames" qu'elle partage avec cinq autres compagnes, Akhila ose poser la question qui la hante depuis longtemps : une femme a-t-elle vraiment besoin d'un homme pour être heureuse et épanouie ?

It is the first night of Ramadan. At Sivaji Nagar in the heart of Bangalore, the market comes alive. It is also the night a killer decides to go out in public for the first time as a woman. In the bustling market she finds her victim and lures him into a narrow dark lane but she is interrupted by a young male prostitute. At first he is merely someone muscling in on her territory but when he recognizes the true face beneath the killer’s make up, his life is irrevocably changed.…