A Pink Rose: And Other Short Stories

By Veena Chugh

A Pink Rose and Other Stories is a collection of short stories. Each tale has a simple, yet poignant message. Things from everyday life and the mundane come alive through lucid narratives, the personification of unexpected objects makes them each a carrier of a beautiful moral. Whether it is in the pink rose that whispers wisely, or the voice from beyond, each story can be read and re-read time and again, making the collection a powerful and timeless addition to your bookshelf.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Notion Press
• Release date: Feb 16, 2015
• ISBN: 9789384878672

Book preview

Glossary

Sinner becomes a Saint at the Gallows

As I walked towards the gallows, my life flashed in front of my eyes. I was a hardcore criminal and had murdered 100 people. I killed them all brutally, and now, I was sentenced to death. It did not matter to me. All the proceedings went in the favour of the prosecution. It was a clear case.

I had a month to live before they would execute me. Days passed by. It did not matter, nothing mattered at all anymore. Time sped, as it always does, and soon, there was one week left. I saw myself feeling anxious, worrying about the day on which I would be hanged.

The anxiety continued to grow, until I had just one day to live. I sat down and looked at my life, a life where my childhood was battered and my teens involved stealing, raping and killing.

I sat there as a 23-year-old man, waiting to be hanged. I had no remorse for what I did, but felt that I was justified for all of it. The only thought in my head was why I was afraid now, when I knew all along that I might end up facing this very end. The prison cell was dark and there was just one part of the door that had a small hole. It let in a slim ray of light. Strangely, and all of a sudden, this slim ray of light, stirred a glimmer of hope within me. It felt as if I had some connection with that ray of light.

I began to reflect within. I heard a voice speaking softly, I am waiting to receive you. I thought I was dreaming but then I heard it again and this time, the voice was louder, I am waiting to receive you. It was a warm, yet soft voice. The last time I heard someone speak like that was my orphanage warden who spoke to me with that much care and love. She died many years ago. Was it really her, waiting for me to join her? I shook my head and tried to hear it again. I am waiting for you my son. I am your father.

I was startled. I had never seen my father or even known who he was. I always thought I was an illegitimate child and that I was abandoned. I had no idea who he was and what my roots were. How could anyone claim to be my father, especially when I barely knew my