Once upon a time, a 5 a.m. monster that would screechingly halt By the local railway station, next to my childhood home In Calcutta, used to be my mother’s morning alarm. The memory of that goods train thundering past our abode, Rocking its flimsy walls is vivid still. Who’d have thought That a day wouldContinue reading “This train runs on blood”
An anthropologist among the journalists 