Tag _urbansories
I By the time the 9 a.m. bus honked past the chowk, Karol Bagh had already begun to yawn into life. The grocer pulled up his half-shutter, the temple bell struck its first note, and the smell of fried kachoris rose from the street corner. Beside the iron lamppost outside Rachna Book Depot, an old man … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
She is forty now. Meera sits by the kitchen window, brushing out her daughter’s tangled hair before school. The aluminum lunchbox clicks shut — the sound is identical to the one her mother once sealed for her every morning, back in Allahabad. Funny how metal remembers. Outside, her husband Raghav is calling out that the … ... mehr auf sumitajetley.wordpress.com
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