Polished Parvathi

Teeny-weeny bit from a light-hearted short story chronicling the "coming-of-age" of sorts, of a young girl from a slum in Chennai. Was featured in this awesome blog, moderated by Desmond Macedo. Read the whole thing here! Parvathi glared at her father as he belched loudly. If looks could kill, but her father didn’t even notice. The little shanty that they lived in now smelt of the meen kolumbu that he had eaten an hour ago. She looked at her mother resting on the hard ground not far away. “Surely, she must have heard it, or smelt it” Parvathi thought to herself. But there was no change in her expression. No sign of disgust or even a mild irritation, just a look of weary relief as she continued fanning herself with the hand-fan, made of dried palmyrah leaves. Parvathi didn’t know whether to be disgusted with her father or disappointed in her mother...