Chapter 3. Life in mogra chawl


I was consciously aware of the blaring note of a popular song. ‘If I were a bird, I would fly to you my love, but it is raining heavily day and night.’ The song begins on a high note and descends gradually to a low note wherein the helpless beloved blames the rain which has dampened her aspirations. The song thrilled me and filled me with joy. The tune reverberated in the atmosphere. I hopped to...

Usha Raman