Who am I? I am every being who has been forcefully dented and painted. I am every man who has failed his innate desire on the scale of time.
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Stories From children
What my childhood gave me, what it made me see, the playful days amidst the summer trees, the innocent talks of blissful frenzy ,when hurting one another meant snatching a candy, transformed to simple illusions. The...
Parenting is pretty fucked up. Nothing prepares you for any of the things that a child throws at you. It was all right when I was changing diapers and cleaning shit and piss, that was like having a pet. But now the...
Every now and then Phuli could see against the backdrop of her blistered wall, shadows of people walking by the lane hurriedly. The street light entered briskly through the broken, wooden shutters of her window, int...
The hand-pulled rickshaws in Kolkata are difficult for him to climb up and down from. He held two bags and the rickshaw-waala helped him with the other two. One could clearly figure out,
Having kept a nail on the teacher’s chair, making sure he sat down. Running out of the class before that horrible physics period only to be caught playing (surprise, surprise) cricket with the other class, later.