The first piece I made looked like a traffic accident. Colors bleeding through broken…
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I spent three Saturdays looking. New Barrackpore first, then Barasat, then Dum Dum. Every…
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The boy’s ‘a’ kept floating. Not above the line, not below—just detached, drifting. His…
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Smiriti drew on the backs of her father’s office papers. Bills, mostly, already paid,…
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The cactus died. Not a real one—a sculpture I’d made from three Sprite bottles,…
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Including why I stopped looking for “best” and found what actually worked I spent…
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