The Rally Has Left, by Lakhmi
Today Bijender bhai sahab was not with his harmonium, the scrap dealer was not at his shop.
“You didn't go?”
I stopped. “Where?”
“You didn't go?”
I stopped. “Where?”
Six Women, by Neelofar
The First Woman
A bucketful of colourful clothes soak by the door. Soapy foam has formed over them. Beside this bucket is another one, filled with water. A middle-aged woman furiously rubs a cake of Phool soap on a pink salwar kameez. The soap fights the dirt of the suit without lathering. She now scrubs it with a brush. Her manner is hurried. Her muffled voice shows the strain. “I have to finish all this quickly,” she says, “Then I have to get Preeti from school”.
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