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Memories

The cradle of memories

I hope this letter finds you in good health. It has been a while since I saw your face. I have no complaints; I know we are oceans apart, and to frequent me will be quite troublesome. So, I send this letter in my stead, for you to read it at your leisure. 

Alien and intimate

A heavy price for my nomadic life is the number of friends one lost in pre-internet days. When I connected with Detienne again after twentyfive years, he had mellowed somewhat, but he still retained his proclivity for sarcasm and dramatic gestures. He was a literary celebrity, for he had produced a stream of witty, enjoyable books that had made him a best-selling Bengali author, a literary lion.

The remnant of a treasure

Many leave their partners in acrimony, at least distaste. Fortunate – but sadly few -- are those whose relations end on a reassuring note and they can go their way with something to treasure. We cannot all play guitar or good table tennis all our life, but we can treasure what we have loved and learned.

Losing Someone

How can you not miss somebody you gave birth to, saw growing up, day by day, month by month? You held him, you fed him, you clothed him, you gave him life - that became an inseparable part of your own life. How do you live after that very important part of your life is snatched away?

‘What are we if not our memories?’

"To counteract racism, discrimination, biases, I have learned to work harder, keep studying, dress well, and laugh often. Is it still the land of hope and glory for migrants?"