I still remember the Chinese family that used to run a laundry on the ground floor of our building in south Kolkata when I was a child.
They were our tenants. Occasionally, they would send us cooked noodles for dinner. That was my first taste of chow mein, the popular name for stir-fried noodles. The ubiquitous Chinese restaurants dotting the city were quite a distance away. Only a few famed ones had been in business serving as the city landmarks: Nanking, Chang Wah, and Peiping. Going to Peiping in Park Street for dinner would be an occasion. Chang Wah on Central Avenue and Nanking in Tiretta Bazaar, deep inside the city’s Chinatown, were beyond our horizon. Somehow, those areas were not considered safe enough. I don’t know why; maybe the storylines of the old blockbusters such as China Town and Howrah Bridge had perpetuated a myth.
Diese Geschichte stammt aus der July - September 2017-Ausgabe von The Equator Line.
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Diese Geschichte stammt aus der July - September 2017-Ausgabe von The Equator Line.
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The Rohingya: Refugees On The Run
‘My heart is pounding; I pant from running too fast.
The Desert's Silent Shadows
A song starts playing on a night as starry as only the desert sky can produce. I sit barefoot in the cooling sand, a hot cup of tea in my hands and a bitter wind playing with the veil covering my head.
Life In A Day
You wake up early in the morning and sigh.
The Firstborn
Nimmi held Asitha’s hand and studied his face as they sat at the corner table, their usual retreat, at the Misty Mountain restaurant, whenever they came to Nuwara Eliya. After finishing the work in town they would come here for coffee. His eyes sparkled with warmth and love; he was visibly happy. She thought so and hoped… But as she watched, a deep frown appeared on his face, and slowly spread over his rugged features.
The Dragon In Decline
I still remember the Chinese family that used to run a laundry on the ground floor of our building in south Kolkata when I was a child.
