By Kalpana Kumari I was nine when Fiza released. My mother took my sister and me to a theatre in Nehru Place, Delhi, along with my Masi and her kids. I was the youngest. Before that day, I would often
By Parthavi The bustling town and the calm village collided at the lane; the village ended there, and the town began. Standing at this border on a foggy, quiet morning was the old widow. The town gave
By Roshan Tara He was dying. Everyone knew. She still hoped. The letter, soft with folds and years, burned in her coat pocket. Words she’d never dared speak. “I’ll tell him today,” she whispered, hand
Comments