Murli Melwani's Page

(Remembrances of things past present a bouquet as Father’s Day approaches – Author’s Note)


“Fire! Fire! Come out. Hurry. Out of the shop!” A group of young men rushed into the store, belted out the warning and dashed out to alert the other store owners on G.S. Road.

We ran out, my father, my brother and I. Panic and confusion ruled the street. We were bumped by people running in all directions. The vision that met me remains etched on my mind: sharp tongues of fire licking the wooden frame of… Continue

The game we played back in Taiwan was closer to baseball than to tennis. We served with the gay abandon of Roger Clements; it was by pure chance that the balls landed in the service box. Our swings would have made Barry Bonds proud; more often than not the balls homed into the fence or the net. Our rallies – when they occurred - were fierce but short.

After two hours of doubles we would sit over a beer and try to solve the problems of the world. The time at the bar was as long as the time on th… Continue