English Short Story
by Rashmi Gowda
note: Rashmi Gowda works for a medical device company in the Pittsburgh
metropolitan area. She grew up in South India, and moved to the US to
pursue her MBA. She has been writing short stories, poems and
travelogues for her blog rushwrites.blogspot.com and also worked as co-editor for her school's weekly magazine. She can be reached at rashmi.gowda [at] gmail [dot] com.
When the village slept, the men came knocking.
The young, the married, the old.
They had one thing in common: they were all horny and thought she was an easy lay.
only he were alive' she thought, wistfully. She had gotten married when
she was all of 19. She knew not a soul, save for the 70-something
nearly-deaf, distant relative that accompanied her to her new home. She
had a boy a year later. His father was a really good man. Everyone
agreed. The crows too. When the village buried their dead, they put food
near the body, stepped back and waited. The crows would then gather to
peck at the food. Only then would they bury the body. If the crows came
quickly, it signified that the dead man, woman or child had led a good
life. It must be true, why else did they have to wait two hours before a
solitary crow made the obligatory swoop when Madappa died? Tales could
be written about how bad a person he was. But not today, not in this