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The lucky ones sit on rickety plastic stools at the entrance to the large room. A line of penitents, punished
My favourite hospital houses its maternity ward to the left of the staircase on the first floor, its surgical ward
White are the starched robes of the priests, white the fluttering masks as they pray in perfect cadence, one voice
If you lived in Nungambakkam in the early 1980s, you know of whom I speak. She had established her den
My bank is at the end of a road shaded by beautiful old trees. Rusty shield bearers mostly, the ones
Twenty four years ago, my husband had a cupboard made for me as a gift for our first wedding anniversary.
The main road outside my home, usually filled with the cacophony of impatient horns and the miasma of diesel fumes,
The sound of their voices grates on my sleep filled ears. Marinading fish is not my favourite kitchen chore anyway
An update – I noticed a beautiful detail about the old man today that I has missed earlier. Had to
The clouds gather ominously over the Arabian Sea. The breeze picks up errant leaves and dances them along the street.
