By late evening the laboratories at the Defence Research and Development Organisation campus did not fall silent. They merely changed their breathing. The clang of metal softened into the hum of air-conditioning ducts. The sharp, acrid tang of solder and heated circuitry gave way to the faint sweetness of night jasmine from somewhere beyond the boundary wall. Sodium lamps flickered awake one by one, casting amber halos upon trimmed hedges and long corridors that smelt faintly of phenyl and ambition. Inside one of the modest buildings, a tall, silver-haired scientist in a pale blue shirt folded his papers with unhurried care, as if each sheet were a sleeping bird that must not be startled. His sandals made a soft, unceremonious sound against the polished floor. There were no convoys waiting, no thunderous announcements. Just a battered briefcase, a sheaf of scribbled notes, and in his shirt pocket, a packet of glucose biscuits bought from the small canteen outside the gate…
To read the full story and 19 other short stories in this series click on the links below:
This story is part of the book Unknown Companions, my second printed collection of short stories, bringing together twenty quiet encounters between well-known Indians and the animals who moved through their lives.
These stories do not revisit achievement. They turn toward the smaller presences history rarely records: a dog waiting at a doorway, a bird crossing a garden, a stray who appears at an unexpected hour. In such moments, reputation falls silent and a different kind of companionship becomes visible.
Rooted in real lives and shaped by the quiet crossings between humans and animals, this collection gathers the unnoticed companions who stood briefly beside lives that history remembers for other reasons.
If you have found something here that stayed with you, some of my other books (collection of short stories, novels, and more) are now available in print and digital editions. They gather many unique journeys, quieter questions, and stories that continue beyond this page.
Weekend Stories by Trishikh 