Exposed in Chennai

When I write home I say that rain is the weather I miss most. Save for that unseasonal hailstorm in the middle of March one night (that was over before

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Uttarayan: Kite Joy, Kite Lament

“Death is the mother of beauty. Only the perishable can be beautiful, which is why we are unmoved by artificial flowers.” – Wallace Stevens

Dipal called from her car

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Re: Navratri

My Dear Fellows,
Come to Ahmedabad and be mesmerized by nine days of cosmic spectacle, sparkling chaniya choli, and alluring Garba dance in obeisance to the goddess Durga. Beginning Tuesday,

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Phases of Delay

“At night as I lay awake looking at the darkness, listening to the silence, prefiguring the future, picking out the past and scraps I had overlooked, those rejected events which now come

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