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Discover weekly, the best short stories

Looking for a steady supply of desi short stories? Every week thousands of writers submit stories to our writing contest.

Desi Short Stories to read

Submitted by writers on Reedsy Prompts to our weekly writing contest. Discover the magic of Desi stories in this directory of short stories, curated by our panel of judges.

Desi Short Stories – Page 8

A Father's Tale

Weekly Contest #263

A Father’s Tale Trigger warnings: Mental health, substance abuse, physical abuse, and harsh language. “Ashik, what is wrong with you? How can you be so stupid?” I exclaim. Ashik looks over at the grey leather couch that I sat in. Dressed in baggy ripped clothes with stains on them, and a beer bottle in one hand. My son was lying on a white hospital bed with the couch across from me. The hospital put him on suicide watch after his attempt on the bridge. I continued to stare at Ashik, hoping for some sort of a reaction. The room was filled wi...

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Friendship Matters

Weekly Contest #261

My name is Ria. I'm British Asian with Mauritian roots, the founder and CEO of HR Matters. People tell me I have everything, brains, beauty, love and wealth. But what people don't see is the hard work and sacrifice that's cost me the best years of my life. I open the door to my office, and there’s a huge vase of vibrant, sweet-smelling flowers sitting on my desk. “What the?” My first thought is Don, and my heart swells. “Hope you don’t mind.” I turn around and see Zoe, my new PA, standing behind me in the corridor, wearing the same trouser...

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Guess what? I’m related to Frankenstein

Weekly Contest #260

“Guess what? I’m related to Frankenstein” That was the last text message Amir sent me. I had so many questions like “Isn’t Frankenstein just a story?” and “How’d you find out?”. But he left me on read. Summer had come and gone, and with it the vacation. Clouds roared aloud at the height of the Indian monsoon. I looked out the school bus window, my mind as gloomy as the skies. Amir’s ghosting had got to me. We’ve been best friends since kindergarten and I was beyond frustrated. My plan for the day was to beat his ass as soon as I saw him. I f...

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Boiling Point

Weekly Contest #260

He gazed absently at the black kettle, his reflection looking back at him like a stranger. Nice cup of tea. That’s what we need. A faint humming of a song and the sound of light footsteps on the floorboards above him made him smile. He noticed the whistle of the kettle, as it screeched louder and louder, vapours fading away in the sunlight. Realisation struck; she must have put the kettle on. Of course, she did. Of course, she did. How kind. How thoughtful. The dawn broke in a pool on the window, seeping in through the cracks and resti...

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Resolution

Weekly Contest #258

Keerat pursed her lips and grimaced. She turned her head to the left and then quickly to the right, doing her absolute best to avoid making eye contact with the camera in front of her. She held a bread pakora in her hand, suspended just above a puddle of deep red chutney on a porcelain dinner plate. The cameraman panned around to everyone else sitting around the table; some gave smiles and threw up peace signs while others continued conversations with those sitting beside them, backs a little bit straighter, gesticulating a bit more delibera...

6 likes 1 comment 1
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The Ninja from the Suburbs

Weekly Contest #256

Note: Contains scenes of violence and brief mention of mental health "I am sorry, ma'am, " the out-of-shape, African-American woman FAA officer interjected my mother politely. "We can't let you carry this." "But why?" My mom interjected. "I am allowed a carry-on. I am 67 year old diabetic patient with heart problems, cholesterol…". "Ma'am, I am sorry. But these are the rules. Our overhead compartment is full." "How can it be full? We didn't even go in." She objected. "Com'on mom, don't be a Karen." I tried to make it light. "No wait. Why sh...

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Umpire's call -" Kalyug"

Weekly Contest #256

“Everyone I knew was glued to the TV, or their phones They had been waiting for this day for over three months. I was going to be on TV during on one of the most awaited events of the year. For more than 3 hours, I would be seen with some of the biggest sports stars in the world. But nobody would be watching me. They may see me but I would be swiftly ignored like I never existed. I was used to that for a while now. After all, nobody pays attention to the Umpires (referees are called “Umpires” in cricket) during a cricket match. Everyone blam...

10 likes 6 comments 6
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The Gravity of Being Upright

Shortlisted for Weekly Contest #255 ⭐️

I think it had started to happen a long time back—bit by bit—but I only noticed it this morning. Gravity was dead. Like Queen Elizabeth. Both of them. Yesterday, it was just Anurag bhaiya’s little music box—a walnut cuboid with burnt-umber filigree on its corners, and a knob the size of my fingernail to play Christina Perri’s You Are My Sunshine—floating a few inches above his desk. Today, it was me. I woke up to find myself levitating. It wasn’t as fun as Miss Dua Lipa may have led you to believe. It felt more like demonic possession th...

26 likes 22 comments 22
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Me and My Uncle

Weekly Contest #255

The fortnight had come to its final day: The day to begin my journey back home, to life as it really is, had arrived. Though known and anticipated, it arrived abruptly. Eid-al-Azha had begun the prior day. Sacrificial animals, populating street corners, grassy medians, and parking lots, had left already, gone as suddenly as they arrived ten days prior. On the evening of the first day of Eid, while Uncle Ramiz and I went on a walk, the streets ran with blood, down driveways of suburban Islamabad homes, looking surprisingly like red paint. ...

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Pause, Play, Live

Weekly Contest #253

I pause play on life like teenage girls pause Taylor Swift songs—frequently but always with great reluctance—with heartbreak. Some might say that is a blessing, one more moment to appreciate what I have—it’s what people always beg for, isn’t it? More time? One more moment? Just one more? They would be appallingly wrong. My ability is not a gift. I can only stop time in the moments when what I love is being taken from me. It’s one more moment to suffer the grief, one more to grapple with the inevitability. There is no comfort to be gleaned. O...

6 likes 1 comment 1
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A Few Minutes

Weekly Contest #253

She walked into the house calling out, “Hey Zach, I am home.” She was struggling to get into the small hallway with her two bags. The cab, still the easiest way to get home from the airport, drove off. She was exhausted, having been traveling all day to get back for work in the morning. She had spent a week in the town she grew up in and had raised her kids in. The last few days of which had been spent sharing a bed with her daughter in a studio apartment with two cats. They had gone to a cousin's wedding the night before. She had stayed up ...

9 likes 0 comments 0
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The True Colour of Bookmanship

Weekly Contest #251

I opened the book as soon as I got a seat on the train. I was eager to resume Preeti Shenoy's beautiful novel 'A Hundred Little Flames.' The narration is brilliant, and the story is so convincing that whenever you close it, you feel like beginning again from where you have stopped. The surroundings look similar as the plot was developed around a remote village in central Kerala, with most of the characters a Keralite must have seen daily; this is something that attached me to the book. I bent down to pick up the bookmark, which dropped from ...

8 likes 2 comments 2
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Good luck, Adi!

Weekly Contest #249

Aditya Rastogi comes running into the court. A roar of cheers bursts from the crowd. He tangles his hands and starts stretching his forearms over his head. An arrogant smile and the audience is vindicated. He starts skipping rope and looks towards me. We lock eyes. I remember something similar happening in my dream. But, instead of puffing my chest and giving him a middle finger, I get flustered. He ignores me sneeringly and turns perpendicularly to finish his warm up. I prepare to serve in the first game. The crowd only cares about Adi. I c...

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Running Late

Weekly Contest #249

Abdul hit snooze, his alarm clock radio blaring Bon Jovi’s “Livin’ on a Prayer,” rolled over and pulled covers. It was fall and chilly. He sought to return to a dream. It was gone. The digits read 7:07 as the radio alarm resumed and the DJ spoke: “Time to rise and shine!” The Beatles song “Good Morning,” began with a rooster’s cock-a-doodle and Good morning, good morning, good morning. Abdul’s final interview at Fidelity Bank was at 8:30 a.m. His Abu who had passed last year wanted him to be a doctor, but he had no interest in medicine. Afte...

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A New Home

Weekly Contest #247

1. Kalki People come across many places they start calling home throughout their lives. Yet, one always tugs a bit stronger. For Kalki, it was her grandparents’ house where she spent her summer holidays. On the road from Patiala to Chandigarh, a small lane started from an unnaturally large gate. The local government chose to spend all their money on this beautifully sculpted golden gate instead of fixing the road that lay ahead of it. The pothole-studded road passed through fields of sugarcane and mustard, and occasionally would have small p...

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RBE | Illustrated Short Stories | 2024-06

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