The room was loud even when it was quiet. Sounds arrived from the street without knocking, voices arguing over nothing, a cart complaining about its load, a radio coughing between stations before settling into a song that did not belong to this hour. Amritsar had not learned how to lower its voice yet. It spoke in bursts, in leftovers of anger and relief, in the scrape of life insisting on itself after having been told, too often, to leave…
To read the full story and 19 other short stories in this series click on the links below:
This story is a part of the book “Lives Between the Dates“, my first printed collection of short stories, bringing together twenty well thought moments from twenty well known lives across twenty Indian cities. These stories do not revisit achievement. They enter the quieter hours around it. The hesitation before action. The doubt behind conviction.
Rooted in real places and shaped by history, this collection gathers the unrecorded moments that define a life more truthfully than any monument.
If you have found something here that stayed with you, some of my other books are now available in print and digital editions. They gather longer journeys, quieter questions, and stories that continue beyond this page.
Weekend Stories by Trishikh 
I can tell this one is going to be sad
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Well MM, that’s a pertinent question. I can’t reveal the answer for all those who have bought the book and are reading the stories one by one, and for all those who will buy and read the stories in the future.
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No not at all. I was merely making my own observation. Do not reveal anythihg! Let the people read your works! I will soon be counting myself among them.
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I always treasure your appreciation for my work. I cannot thank you ever enough for it.
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Never stop making your wonderful stories.
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I shall do my best.
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🙏
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Wow, Trishikh!
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Thank you.
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😊
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This is beautifully atmospheric and deeply evocative. Your opening line alone pulls the reader straight into the pulse of Amritsar—alive, restless, and layered with memory. I love how you describe the city as if it were a living voice, speaking in fragments of history, emotion, and survival. It feels less like a setting and more like a witness.
The concept behind Lives Between the Dates is especially compelling. Focusing on the quiet, unrecorded moments rather than public achievements is such a powerful idea—it reminds us that the truest parts of a life often happen offstage, in silence, doubt, and reflection. That perspective gives your work both intimacy and depth.
Your writing has a thoughtful stillness beneath its movement, and it lingers in the mind long after reading. Truly graceful, perceptive storytelling.
https://amzn.in/d/0gBYPlvz
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Dear Vermaji, Your words feel like a conversation continued rather than a comment left behind.
Amritsar could never be merely a setting for me. It carries a pulse that is restless and tender at once. I wanted it to speak in fragments, as you so perceptively noticed, because history there rarely arrives in complete sentences. It survives in echoes, in survival, in memory that refuses to fade.
I am deeply encouraged that the idea behind Lives Between the Dates resonates with you. The public moment is often polished and recorded. What fascinates me are the offstage hours, when doubt sits beside courage and reflection outweighs applause. Those are the spaces where a life becomes recognizably human.
Your phrase about a thoughtful stillness beneath movement means a great deal. That is the balance I strive for. Motion on the surface, contemplation underneath.
Thank you for reading with such attentiveness and for sharing the link to your new book “Chalaa-Chal Rahi” as well. It is readers like you who ensure that these quiet stories continue to travel.
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Your message truly touched me. I’m grateful for your generous and thoughtful response—it’s rare and beautiful when words create not just a reaction, but an ongoing conversation. Your description of Amritsar as a place where history breathes in fragments is deeply evocative; it perfectly reflects how memory and time often live within us—not as straight lines, but as echoes that return when we least expect them.
I’m especially moved by your insight about the “offstage hours.” Those quiet, unrecorded moments are indeed where the real story of a life unfolds. That perspective is what gives your writing its depth and sincerity—it doesn’t just narrate events; it reveals the soul beneath them.
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Thank you Verma’ji, your words never fail to bring me immense joy and great encouragement to keep on writing these stories. Presently I am working on my next collection of 20 stories, lets see when I am able to publish it.
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This is wonderful and thoughtful.
The way you describe the city feels alive and honest. I love how you focus on the quiet moments behind the big stories.
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Dear Willie, Thank you for reading it with such warmth.
I have always felt that a city is never just a backdrop. It breathes, hesitates, remembers. If it felt alive and honest to you, then it revealed itself as it should. The quieter moments often carry more truth than the loud milestones that history prefers to record.
In The Joke That Would Not Come, I wanted to linger in that pause before laughter, in the human space where wit falters and something more vulnerable surfaces. Those are the moments that interest me most.
I am grateful that you notice and value those silences behind the larger story. That is where I try to stand as a storyteller.
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Your words carry that same quiet depth you write about.
I love what you said, that a city breathes, hesitates, remembers. That is exactly how it felt reading you. Not like scenery, but like presence. Almost as if the streets themselves were participants in the story.
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I am so glad that my words move you in such a beautiful way.
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🙏👍
Aum Shanti
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Thank You.
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