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By Soumitro Sanyal “Let us go to a secluded place, you know, somewhere where it’s nice and peaceful, with no one around us to stalk or ogle over us; where it’ll be only you and me.” Cooed in Anisha while we were sitting at Barista in the outer circle of Connaught Place, sipping hot cappuccino on a chilly winter afternoon, and watching the endless traffic crawl and zip on the roads. It was a working day, so more traffic and people on the road. “Sweetheart, there is virtually no possible place so secluded where people aren’t there except a room,”

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Written by Amin Kamil | Translated from Kashmiri by M Siddiq Beig Amin Kamil The moment Ghulam Khan entered the compound, Shah Maal got up with a start. She did not even so much as remember to wash and wrench her ‘pheron’ that had been soiled by eight-month old baby. She seemed as it were have come by a treasure, the way she asked her husband: “You have got it? I was afraid that you might come empty handed even today.” She almost snatched the cock off him and began to fondle its feathers and the comb. “It cost me

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Written by Akhtar Mohi-ud-Din | Translated from Kashmiri by M Siddiq Beig Nabir Shaala was already well over three score and ten. For the most part of his life, he had darned and continued doing this even then. On the jehlum bank, overlooking the river, he owned as small three storeyed wood planked shack of a house. He invariably sat on the verandah, working, wearing thick glasses fixed in place with twisted yarn, on his nose shrilling out his favourite song: mash bo chhivireethas raati ke pyali hano And sometimes another song: tsininy poshi yangi me dyinthmas tan haa cah

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Cool breezes kissed her cheeks. Hair flicks fell on face. A two lane wide road welcomed. She stepped out of the Metro station. One room windowless dwelling is a mile away. Taking a cycle rickshaw to reach there is her daily travel. Tasleema is like other girls of Delhi who live here for studies. With heart full dreams for future, struggle is inevitable. She was one of the passengers of Rajasthan express, three years ago. Her parents live back home in Rajasthan. Earning his bread from a government job in Power Development Department, Muhammad Ishaaq never forgets to send monthly