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the chilli farmer’s son

i keep thinking of her face. the naked helplessness. her expressions are almost gone, the suffering robbing her of that too perhaps. she’s saying something in telegu. i don’t understand what she’s saying but her vulnerability is making my heart hammer in a strange way. that’s real, that’s so real, no fudging in it. once in a way her voice shakes and she trembles a little as a sob escapes silently, a tear drops from a vacant tired eye and…

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food indi

turmeric can make you ramble

that there could be a word for holud or haldi in english had never occurred to me. i was fourteen, not interested in cooking, and besides, why would people who didn’t use it in any of their cooking bother to find a word for the yellow powder or paste present in practically everything we make? we don’t have a word for parsley, sage, rosemary and thyme. we don’t use those pretty sounding song-worthy herbs in our curries or ghontos or…

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