No dog in our town was safe. Mo and his gang instinctively reached for stones the moment they saw one. With savage glee they would attack the mongrel as if impelled by some atavistic urge, as if not to hurl a rock would violate some secret adolescent code. Similarly, no schoolgirl could escape their catcalls.… Read More

The earth was damp and loamy, and the grass wet. It had rained all night. I stood on the pathway edging the cemetery and watched them walk toward the grave, picking their way among tombstones. Bush and nettle had overgrown, colonizing every spare space. The neem and peepal trees loomed large, the mighty sentinels standing guard over the dead.… Read More

The drive from Toronto Pearson Airport was slow. The car crawled in the Friday morning rush-hour traffic. Zoya, our seven-year-old daughter, exhausted, slept in the backseat. My husband Juzer had taken the morning off to pick us up. Shielding my eyes from the bright late August sun, I was thankful to be back home, relieved… Read More