This story came from a line that just popped into my head from nowhere, and borrows from snippets my family recount from their youth as Indian born Brits.
Damn, Nick, this story is as beautiful as it is disquieting. The way you used the setting sun for urgency added real weight to a man’s tragic past. I’m fucking floored by this one.
What a beautifully written story, delicately handling something so terrible without shying away from acknowledging its ugliness.
I really loved these lines:
"It choked him like a boiled egg swallowed whole. He longed to speak it, to free it from his nightmares, but he would not give it to this child..."
They say so much to me in so little - a reminder that while Pinky has a mentor and protector in the storyteller, he finds purpose and an outlet in her. Recognition that he takes this role seriously: he understands the restraint he must exercise, wanting relief from his past but wanting even more for the child in front of him to grow up free from those nightmares. In a way, he's protecting Pinky from the burden of knowledge the way his father protected his brothers in the market, and he's showing restraint against a selfish desire the way Furqan Dhar should have done.
All that in a couple of lines! Fantastic. Thank you very much for sharing with us!
thank you so much for your kind words. you are exactly right about my intention with those lines because i did want the full story to be told but knew the character would not talk about that to this child, although she was the impetus for him to stray into his past in the first place. for the whole story I wanted to contrast the innocence and joy of childhood with the horrors lurking within adulthood. i always find this a jarring place to visit.
That is a beautifully told story. Heartbreaking, of course, but so very well told. No need for me personally to comment on the abuse bit, as you are perfectly aware of how I feel about that sort of thing. But in a way, the loveliness of the telling drowns it out and floods it away.
thank you thank you so much evelyn. It is always a huge uplifting moment that you read and like what I write - have been a bit distracted recently - well behind on reading and writing….
Another thought - for some reason I didn't know you had Indian relatives. This explains your prowess in the curry kitchen. I shall be pestering you for recipes soon enough. - ah, edit: Indian-born Brits - I must learn to read better. Still explains your prowess, though. For storytelling too no doubt. How long were you there for? You should write more about it.
i shall be happy to send you a dhal recipe, but its so easy and there are so many good ones out there, with videos and everything - better than I can do!
lol. I am actually ok with dhal as it happens. And yes, there are lots of recipes out there (plus some books on our little cookery book shelf) so I'll probably be ok. Our problem, being stuck out here in deepest rural France, is getting ingredients of course.
i was never in india - my father was about 6 when the newlt formed Pakistani government politely asked the family to go back to blighty - but all my aunties and uncles on that side were born there and some were in their late teens when they left. I have never been, but of course, it fascinates me.
A masterful weaving of imagery! Then you throw in the juxtaposition of innocence and darkness, which makes the delicate handling of Tirah’s story a visceral experience.
Nick. I am in awe and taking notes on how this was written. The dialogue is fantastic—I loved the sprinkling of Urdu (Hindi?). The balance of Kathaakaar's tragic tale with the innocent curiosity of young Pinky creates a bittersweet tension. Emotional and captivating. Brilliant writing, my friend.
thank you so much Shane! it really makes my day that a gifted writer would take time to give me such positive feedback.
most of the words used are hindi which i think would be the more common language of mumbai. kathaakaar is hindi for storyteller
many hindi and urdu words are interchangeable (it seems) haldi and haldee for example. the name I gave Tirah is in fact the word for 13. i didnt spell that connection out in the story and actually a typo i made makes it seem like Tirah mean "the bar" which it does not...but no matter.
my auntie criticises the urdu expression as not being accurate as she recalls its...but she is 80 something... and Google translate is quite clear and pronounces it as my auntie says it... in the family we often say kabhi kabhi to joke about liking something we shouldnt ...like ..."you like a gin Auntie?" "hmmm ...kabhi kabhi" (auntie LOVES a gin...)
The number of great stories I'm missing just because of my limited bandwidth is crushing, but it's also kind of amazing to know that such a seemingly unlimited trove of top-tier work is on here—most of it for free!
Damn, Nick, this story is as beautiful as it is disquieting. The way you used the setting sun for urgency added real weight to a man’s tragic past. I’m fucking floored by this one.
What a beautifully written story, delicately handling something so terrible without shying away from acknowledging its ugliness.
I really loved these lines:
"It choked him like a boiled egg swallowed whole. He longed to speak it, to free it from his nightmares, but he would not give it to this child..."
They say so much to me in so little - a reminder that while Pinky has a mentor and protector in the storyteller, he finds purpose and an outlet in her. Recognition that he takes this role seriously: he understands the restraint he must exercise, wanting relief from his past but wanting even more for the child in front of him to grow up free from those nightmares. In a way, he's protecting Pinky from the burden of knowledge the way his father protected his brothers in the market, and he's showing restraint against a selfish desire the way Furqan Dhar should have done.
All that in a couple of lines! Fantastic. Thank you very much for sharing with us!
thank you so much for your kind words. you are exactly right about my intention with those lines because i did want the full story to be told but knew the character would not talk about that to this child, although she was the impetus for him to stray into his past in the first place. for the whole story I wanted to contrast the innocence and joy of childhood with the horrors lurking within adulthood. i always find this a jarring place to visit.
That is a beautifully told story. Heartbreaking, of course, but so very well told. No need for me personally to comment on the abuse bit, as you are perfectly aware of how I feel about that sort of thing. But in a way, the loveliness of the telling drowns it out and floods it away.
Very wonderful writing this is, Nick. Truly.
thank you thank you so much evelyn. It is always a huge uplifting moment that you read and like what I write - have been a bit distracted recently - well behind on reading and writing….
Another thought - for some reason I didn't know you had Indian relatives. This explains your prowess in the curry kitchen. I shall be pestering you for recipes soon enough. - ah, edit: Indian-born Brits - I must learn to read better. Still explains your prowess, though. For storytelling too no doubt. How long were you there for? You should write more about it.
i shall be happy to send you a dhal recipe, but its so easy and there are so many good ones out there, with videos and everything - better than I can do!
lol. I am actually ok with dhal as it happens. And yes, there are lots of recipes out there (plus some books on our little cookery book shelf) so I'll probably be ok. Our problem, being stuck out here in deepest rural France, is getting ingredients of course.
im going to be in deepest rural brittany on tuesday!
Have a lovely time and don't drink too much cider!
i shall try not to…nor eat too many galettes…however many too many might be….
i was never in india - my father was about 6 when the newlt formed Pakistani government politely asked the family to go back to blighty - but all my aunties and uncles on that side were born there and some were in their late teens when they left. I have never been, but of course, it fascinates me.
and I seemed to be inherentaly able to make curry
'politely' - lol
A masterful weaving of imagery! Then you throw in the juxtaposition of innocence and darkness, which makes the delicate handling of Tirah’s story a visceral experience.
Thank you so much for reading and taking time to give me your thoughts. it means a great deal to.me! 😀
Nick. I am in awe and taking notes on how this was written. The dialogue is fantastic—I loved the sprinkling of Urdu (Hindi?). The balance of Kathaakaar's tragic tale with the innocent curiosity of young Pinky creates a bittersweet tension. Emotional and captivating. Brilliant writing, my friend.
thank you so much Shane! it really makes my day that a gifted writer would take time to give me such positive feedback.
most of the words used are hindi which i think would be the more common language of mumbai. kathaakaar is hindi for storyteller
many hindi and urdu words are interchangeable (it seems) haldi and haldee for example. the name I gave Tirah is in fact the word for 13. i didnt spell that connection out in the story and actually a typo i made makes it seem like Tirah mean "the bar" which it does not...but no matter.
my auntie criticises the urdu expression as not being accurate as she recalls its...but she is 80 something... and Google translate is quite clear and pronounces it as my auntie says it... in the family we often say kabhi kabhi to joke about liking something we shouldnt ...like ..."you like a gin Auntie?" "hmmm ...kabhi kabhi" (auntie LOVES a gin...)
Haha me and your auntie would be BFFs. Gin martinis are my go-to.
Thanks for the additional notes. Really great stuff, man. Keep 'em coming.
Thanks Shane! working on a few things it's fair to say…
I got lost in this world and the stories. In a good way. Amazing writing Nick.
Thanks Jon! so pleased i magined to make turmeric farming into a readable story! 😀
Nick, this story is so deep and stirring. Absolutely masterfully told. This will stay with me…
thanks Liz! such a huge compliment 🫠.
A beautiful and sensitive portrait of this storyteller’s gut-wrenching memory. You have such a way of weaving tales, my friend! I’m always floored.
thank you Garen 😄
i just listened to keith read “amber eyes” and was reminded how brilliant that story is, so hearing you like my stories is especially wonderful.
been trying to catch up on lunar awards sci fi… TOO MUCH STORIES!
The number of great stories I'm missing just because of my limited bandwidth is crushing, but it's also kind of amazing to know that such a seemingly unlimited trove of top-tier work is on here—most of it for free!
Beautiful, sad story. Your stories are indeed the very, very best. I just wish that such evil didn't live in the world.
but then what woudl I write about… thank you for reading and your kind words jeannine !
Perhaps a story about a certain evil rich man "accidentally" falling into his putt putt machine? 😈
justice…and then into the grinding mill maybe…