Worthing Flash

The Ravaged Orchard In-between the trail zigzagging its way up to the High School and Lhemo's cottage, lies the fenced, lush green apple orchard. A city-bred boy, I had no idea about orchards like this one. Apples of all shapes and sizes; red, blackish red, light green and yellowish, the ones the locals call the "golden languor", can be found here. How surprised I was when one day, on my way back from school, I found a child playing football by plucking an apple from the small tree with its apple-laden branches bending down, almost caressing the ground! On holidays, I take my mattress out, spread it beneath the apple tree nearest to my room and sit down with a book in my hand. Chhimi, Lhemo’s pretty daughter, comes and sits by me. Despite our age difference of almost thirty years, she has become my friend. "Sir, have this." Stretching a golden languor forward to me, she exclaims. She often brings me a dish of ema datse, sag and even fish curry, made ...

The Parting Gift "Shabnam," the middle-aged lady with the golden-glow on her face from the last rays of the fast-dipping sun, whimpered to someone. "Look, who's here." "Hi, Neil. Nice to see you," the stunning looker, who came to the door, exclaimed animatedly.  I stood transfixed at the door. The fragrance from the delicate perfume she wore was making me dizzy. Two years junior to all of my twenty-eight years, in a sari that matched her radiant skin, with curly hair and large, dark eyes on a heart-shaped face, Shabnam was - how do you describe her - soft and doughy? Know what I mean? She was someone you could mould to be your life partner, man.  "Are you going to keep him waiting at the door, or calling him in?" The elder lady asked from inside. "Oh, sorry. Please come in," the younger chimed as I followed her inside.  Something inside my head was telling me to relax as I had reached my destination.  #######################...

The Human-Spider Rathin Bhattacharjee  Rhea, kept looking at the monstrous spider behind her husband's bed. She couldn't take her eyes off the gorgeous grasshopper fighting a lost battle in the web. The creepy spider crawled down, dealt a deathly blow into the grasshopper to go back up again. It was one laborious act of playing, poking, piercing to feed on a healthy insect.  When the grasshopper fell from the web some weeks later, Rhea swept it off, recalling how Arnab, the man she dreamt of spending the rest of her days with, left her mentally dead when she'd nothing more to offer him, physically.  The end

End Game This is the end game. “If only, I reported being sick, when I had mild symptoms, if only I was more careful, if only…” The thoughts echoed in my head as I lay on the ventilator, struggling to breathe, fighting for life. The patient in my next bed suddenly deteriorated. By the time, the anaesthetist will be ready, donning the PPE kit, it might be too late. I removed the mask and jumped to action. Within minutes, I intubated the patient and was back in bed. I am a doctor, I will do my duties till my last breath. Dr. Bhargavi Chatterjea Bhattacharyya,

War   We are going to Grandma's place for the weekend. The children and the dog are very excited. She lives in a quaint little house in the countryside. The children look forward to the walks in the Countryside, the lush green fields, the mushroom hunting, the barbecue and of course, freshly baked bread. Grandma greets them at the porch and the smell of the bread in the oven wafts through the air. The kids take turns to feed the chickens and grandma tells them stories of the good old days.   And then came the war.

  It was dark and the road was deserted. I was driving, my friend sat in the back seat.   Suddenly two motorcycles started chasing us. They signalled us to slow down. "They are robbers," said my friend. "They have been tipped that there is cash in the car. Drive on."    Instead, I slowed down. One motorcycle overtook the car and blocked our way. I pressed the accelerator pedal. The motorcycle lost balance and fell by the wayside. The other motorcycle too gave up the chase.    I drove on and stopped the car only when I reached the next town.   -- Dr. Bhargavi Chatterjea Bhattacharyya MRCPsych (London)