The Sacred and the Starved
Short story by Harjot Banga: ‘How dirty were the hands that designed those temples? Hands that counted the opium profits in the warehouses of Calcutta, honeyed and lethal with dust? Hands that fixed the cables that drained Burmese rice while the Hooghly teemed with corpses.’
Short story by Karan Madhok: “Now, Lady, Miss: Please take the flowers and lean into your husband, like this, as if you are falling into him. Just a little. That’s why in English they say, ‘falling’ in love, no? Bas, gir jao unpar!”