Africa is mystic; it is wild; it is a sweltering inferno; it is a photographer’s paradise, a hunter’s Valhalla, an escapist’s Utopia.
Ochre. Everything around me was ochre. A suffocating ochre that surrounded me in a heat pool.
I took a peaceful slurp of the blackest tea imaginable. It seemed to fill my senses with a warmth that penetrated to the very sinews of my being.
The clock has barely struck eight when her phone starts singing a mad tune. Rakhi glances at her phone screen and sighs.
It had been about four weeks since they had started going to work together. Arjun would drop Jaya off at her workplace and then go to his own.
Y sat typing furiously, every keystroke sending a thrill down his spine. He couldn’t believe it.
There are no bogs, I tell myself.
The day tastes rotten,
Rancid and sour, like a lemon from being out too long in the sun.