During a saint’s sermon on life’s impermanence, a villager asked the meaning of “Late” written before names after death. His friend explained—Englishmen are buried, so…
Forty years ago, happiness was cheap. A stick could be toy, antenna, and mango-harvesting tool. A single roll of cloth dressed the whole family—eventually turning…
The hunger for awards has turned into a literary disease—treated at roadside “Purushkaar stalls” like quack clinics. A writer without an award looks impotent; with…
