Photo by Alienlanus – Own work, CC BY-SA 3.0 Once upon a time, the two cities could have been twins separated by little more than a body of water larger than a river but smaller than a sea. The muddy depths could be easily forgotten in the golden shimmer of the...
Wrapped in the fabric of my pink dupatta, Begum Bazaar is the fabled navel in the eye of antiquity. The streets stomach quaintness mutely, like measured gulps of Irani chai. We walk on, moving in a soft-haze of sounds and colors. You propose a game of make-believe. We...
