Vinod Kumar Shukla (1937-2025): Five excerpts from his fiction (and two poems) in translation

A Silent Place

Bolu and Koona were unable to see Babulal Maharaj leaving the hotel. They looked around, perplexed. Bolu had the freshly sharpened pencil in his hand. Koona remembered that Babulal Maharaj had asked her to write her name down, and that she had to form the letters well when she wrote down her name for him.

“Babulal Maharaj asks people to write down their name after he sharpens pencils for them. I did that. Maybe getting a signature is his way of keeping accounts. Maybe our signatures are a receipt for something,” Koona wondered.

“Write your name in the book,” someone sounded behind them. Bolu turned around. Babulal Maharaj was seated at the table, as if he had never left. “Write your name on this piece of paper, Bolu. Form the letters with care. You should always write neatly.” His buck teeth showed as he smiled.

“Of course,” Bolu said, leaping towards the table. He wrote down his name in beautiful cursive. ‘”ou had left and Kandharu was locking up…”

“Because you couldn’t see me doesn’t mean I have left. As for Kandharu, he likes to finish his tasks ahead of time.”

“Would it be all right if we walked home now?” Bolu asked, turning to face the direction in...

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