I know how older people feel, when they return to a country abandoned long ago…
The fog was heavy over the city, and the morning doves softly sang their tunes repeatedly…
Read MoreOn the silted shores of that Kashmiri lake from my childhood - my shoes slowly ruining in the slush of snow, mud and plum blossoms - I stood beside the houseboat we were staying in (which once hosted Henry Kissinger). That was the month Indira Gandhi was voted out and my whole family got stuck in India.
Read MoreYour eyes watched me faithfully, fingers carefully following the dips and turns of my imperfect singing, matching the patchwork of words to the rhythm of music.
Read MoreYou wonder whether you have traded one death sentence for the next as the engine fails and the old boat moans under the angry tumbling of ocean...
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