A sunny Friday morning in May. It is only nine o’clock, yet the heat is already oppressive. Kolkata, the City of Joy, simmers under…
Look, I’m not saying Ramu was a liar exactly. My mother would’ve called him “creative with the truth.” He sold fruit near the old…
I was merrily walking past a lively street, the way the auburn trees touch the skies as if asking for a peck, just for…
The mosque at the corner of the bazaar kept its own small weather. At night, the courtyard took on a blue hue. Lamps breathed,…
