“My son dropped out of school after ninth grade. The goats are his responsibility now. He keeps telling us he wishes to finish high school some day. But, we are helpless. At least, our girls will study. Maybe, they’ll even go to college. I don’t know. We can’t have too many dreams. I worry […]Read more "‘Even amongst the poor, there lie the poorest who get nothing…’"
The scent of petrichor reminded him of his childhood. His tiny pouch had areca nuts cut neatly into shards. In another bag, betel leaves were arranged lengthwise. They were tied to his waist. Shortly after the rains stopped, he heard the bus. He twirled his moustache as he waited for them. They were friends. For […]Read more "‘It’s easier for them to send her away. She is somebody else’s problem now.’"
Remember this story of love and loss… She lived in Chennanur thanda. Some nights, they spent together. Some days, they lived apart. Even in those moments, they remained with each other. Outside the window that led to the hall where lights flickered ever so slightly at night, we caught him stumbling his way across the […]Read more "‘It is our death that catches your attention. Our lives are worthless…”"
Muffled sounds broke the silence. Someone had broken in. In scorched earth, they looked for dead cinders. The flames were long gone: vanished as if they never swirled in the midnight breeze, as if they never sputtered in the dead of night. It was a dog, muttered the older women under their breath. There were […]Read more "“You don’t have a husband. You don’t have any children. What’s the point of giving you a house?”"
Clamped to the centre of the hall were faded photographs on a calendar. Pages fluttered in the breeze. Their corners had worn out. Shyam Rao adjusted his gold-rimmed spectacles and read the newspaper. He looked at us with weary eyes. Like most mornings, his blue slippers hung loosely from his feet. Some days, we spoke […]Read more "‘When you tell our story, tell them what you saw. Tell them we are good people. Tell them the truth…’"
“Our fields have no fencing around them. In two years, we might not have a home. We will lose our farms, and everything we have ever owned. They want us to move away. But we belong here. In the forest. The soil is fertile. And, we can grow our own food. They don’t understand these […]Read more "‘The government built them structures not homes…’"
We don’t remember much of her. She wore keys around her neck. She had coins on her fingers. Between homes that leaned against each other, an old woman dragged her black skirt from the ground. Her chin had tattoos. So did her arms and legs. But there were no patterns. For, they had faded.. Like […]Read more "‘We couldn’t touch their borewell. Because we are Lambani’"