By Achyut Dutt
The years have flown fairly quickly after that. After moving to the west, Rani and you had one more child, a son, Arnav. He is going to Stanford since last August. Tina lives with her husband Dieter in Schwedt. They have a cottage by the Elbe. And Rani. It’s now a year since the very light of your life, your Rani, passed away, consumed by the cancer which had galloped unchecked through her thyroids.
By Achyut Dutt
The ritual thereafter began predictably. Like hundreds of other evenings. I gave Sally a quick peck on the cheek at her door and walking down the length of the hallway to my apartment. And she waited till I reached my doorstep and gave me a tiny wave.
By Mosarrap H. Khan
The compartment stank of stale booze and urine. He saw the bundled figure in the corner seat. The patched rug, the crumpled clothes, a pair of torn shoes, a crooked bottle of water, and a pile of old newspapers heaped in the cart. He felt repulsed when he first encountered these people in train. He no longer felt the same nauseating feeling as the stench became bearable in a few minutes.
Cafe Dissensus Everyday 