Archana Stories

  I'd been divorced from Ananth for a little over a year. We had no children, and thankfully, our separation hadn't turned into one of those bitter family disputes that relatives keep discussing for years. We were still on reasonably good terms. Occasionally, he'd call if he needed something from me, or I'd visit his apartment to collect belongings I'd left behind. After nearly six years of marriage, becoming complete strangers seemed unnecessarily difficult. That Sunday afternoon was one such visit. I'd gone to his apartment in Mysuru to collect a few things from the storeroom. Ananth had recently decided to reorganise the place, and apparently, some of my old belongings had surfaced. "Take these," he said, pointing towards two cardboard boxes near the entrance. I looked inside. A few books, old photographs, some clothes and miscellaneous household things. "Anything else?" "Actually, there's one more box. It's for Guru." Gu...

“Wake up, Divya. It's nearly seven.” Ramya's voice came from somewhere above the sofa. Divya pulled the thin cotton sheet over her head. “It's Saturday, Akka.” “And you're still unemployed in every sense of the word. Get up.” A cushion landed on her stomach. Divya groaned and opened one eye. Sunlight was coming through the balcony doors of her sister's apartment in Velachery. The ceiling fan turned lazily overhead, doing little against the growing Chennai heat. Ramya stood beside the sofa, already dressed for work in a pale blue formal shirt and dark trousers. Her hair was neatly tied back, her handbag rested on one shoulder, and she looked irritatingly prepared for the day. “Do you ever wake up looking this miserable?” Divya asked. “Only when I have to wake you.” Divya sat up, pushing her tangled hair away from her face. It had been four months since she'd moved into Ramya's apartment. Four months of sleeping on the sofa, eating meals at odd hours and liste...