Waking

Amit Chaudhuri

When afternoon came to Vidyasagar Road, wet clothes—Piyu’s dresses, Bhaskar’s pyjamas and kurtas, even a few soggy towels—hung from a clothes line that stretched across the veranda of the first floor. The line, which had not been tightly drawn anyway, sagged with the pressure of the heavy we…


An Accidental Spy
Sampati