By Nishi Pulugurtha
We did go out on weekends, to her favourite restaurant, to the local shops, to do shopping, to malls. She enjoyed it all. But then, I needed to hold her hand as if she were a little child who could be lost in the crowds.
By Nishi Pulugurtha
On 8 November 2010, I left for work at my usual time. Quarter past ten, I called home to tell my mother that I had reached. My dad passed away two years ago and my mother stayed at home alone; it became my habit to call her up frequently through the day. The phone rang, no one answered.
By Achyut Dutt
There is this emptiness. The years are rolling by and soon you’ll be 60, an age when interesting things stop happening to you when you would like them to. The feeling that you have amounted to very little, that you have made no impact whatsoever on the community at large, has acquired a studio apartment at the back of your mind.
