Olive Chaudhuri

  // I was about to deboard the train when I spotted her. I closely looked at her to reconfirm as I didn’t want myself to end up as an eve teaser beaten by the fellow passengers travelling around in metro. It was definitely her but I couldn’t be sure. She did have those same eyes, same dimple on her chin and a very small mole on her neck. I stared at her for a minute then I took a deep breath and went to her. I waved at her as she was fiddling with her smartphone listening to something, She noticed me and pulled out the earphones. “Hey, you are Devika, right?” I asked her with fingers crossed. She nodded “I'm sorry, but do I know you?” “I’m Ayush ” I smiled. She looked at me with a confused I’m–still- not-getting-who-you-are look. “We studied together. We were classmates in eleventh & twelfth.” “I’m sorry. I seem to forget things lately” She said apologetically. I was so happy seeing her after all those years that I almost forgot it’s been 17 years since our school ended and un...

  // Smoking, to her father, came as naturally as breathing. He smoked and breathed and breathed and smoked. And each time he was away, she'd sneak into the ashtray and pick the filter butts. She had a liking for the smell of cigarettes and loved it more when her fingers smelled of them. But, this story isn't about her father, his smoking, or her sniffing - actually, it's about cigarettes and him. She doesn't smoke, was never tempted to. He's been smoking for the last three months now, has been trying to kick the butt. They spend their cigarette breaks together, in the company of one other office colleagues. He shares his cigarette with the colleague who wears a nude gloss. And each time, as their fingers kiss while handing the cigarette to each other, she feels the ash of jealousy being smeared on her insides. She wonders what his cigarette tastes like - him, the colleague, the women he makes love to, rum, leftover tea, half-burnt lips - all this while she catches ...