Beneath the plum tree, by the hut,Sat the valiant son of Sumitra…With an ever ending alertness,And, above all, an unshakeable shraddha…For the divine couple he served joyously. His eyes darkened,…

At the tea stall I sat with yesterday’s complaints…still bangin’ in an already heavy head,the kind of day that makes a grown manfeel small for no good reason.Then he appeared…Don’t…

What a pathetic bastard I am…A shithole with no end to its pungent smell,A rat trapped for eternity, A man who killed his own kind.What right do I have to…