Two stories by Biswajit Mishra

Accrued income

The boy was setting up his wares by the street stacking his bananas in the wicker basket layer by layer. It was too early in the day for customers but he was getting all ready. Then he picked a banana, peeled and was about to eat when the bored old manager from the book store behind him shouted:

“Hey, already eating from your stock? Have you sold any”

The boy shot back:

“ What? No, but I’m only eating from my profit”

Indelible

Thuk… thuk… thuk.. .

That’s how she started recounting of her grandfather whom she might not have seen or at least it didn’t seem she remembered seeing well. Her stories, in any case, are now jumbled in our heads. She’s gone but our kids too recall those three beats of the walking stick hitting the mud floor—not sure how that sound was even possible on earthen floors. She’s gone and nobody seems to remember much past thuk…thuk.. thuk… from my mother’s story telling.

Biswajit Mishra

www.biswajitmishra.com