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battle of plassey

Espresso Shots

fifth day of spring : a story

the idols were lined up on the narrow ledge under the tall windows in the corner room. the ledge was designed to be a book shelf but no one remembered seeing a book on it ever; instead, dust and cobwebs gathered and had a good time on the yellow ochre lime wash, enjoying the slanting sun rays that fell through the shutters. but today, there was not a speck of dust anywhere. nor cobwebs. only eight beautiful idols. eight pairs…

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sarees tell stories

sand banks, memory, and baluchari

golden arrows rained down, a charioteer looked back at the archer standing behind him. who was he shooting at? i looked to the left. a man stood on another chariot holding the reins as a pair of horses reared, one of the chariot’s wheels seemed to be stuck in the mud and a warrior in reddish orange and gold was beside it perhaps trying to get it out. who were they? even though my mind wasn’t articulating clearly, i knew…

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