Marilyn Lobo was known as the miser of St Jerome’s Colony. And not without just cause. During Christmas, when all the Christian households of the colony illuminated their gardens and homes with flickering lights and stars through the nights and well into the first week of January, Marilyn lit up her own veranda with one forlorn string of coloured bulbs and a small star.
By Pundalik N. Naik Translated from the Konkani by Vidya Pai
Issue no. 6
A marketplace in a village inhabited by lazy people. Some puff on beedies. Some rattle dice or play at sedentary games. Others gossip. A man approaches a group of idlers and addresses one who looks like a labourer.
Sunny Pereira's obliging voice crested over the neatly upholstered antique Portuguese furniture, slid across the living room, drifted upstairs, and seeped through the crack under Penny's door to where Penny sat at her desk writing.
The sound of a window being shut followed next and was succeeded by another door closing with a loud rap. The sounds continued – this is no exaggeration – for almost a minute and kept getting louder. I guessed that a series of windows and doors were being shut for the night, one room at a time