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| In the kitchen of memory |
| The nourishment of soul |
| About five years ago, Mrs B, a very close friend of my parents, moved to Mumbai after half a century of living in Calcutta. By the time she left, both my parents had passed away, as had the lady’s husband. In a city where we had no relatives, I had g... |
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| Look in the backyard |
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Sir — A group of Russians belonging to the Orthodox Christian Church wanted to ban a translation of ... |
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| Post it |
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Sir — Recently, I posted a letter to an address in Jodhpur Park by ordinary mail at Jogajog Bhavan. ... |
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| Winter warmth |
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Sir — It was a chilly night. I took a taxi from Ultadanga for Salt Lake. The taxi driver was a midd ... |
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| AY, THERE’S THE RUB |
| When Hamlet contemplated sleep as a chance to dream, little did he know that he was invoking a fundamental right on the part ...|
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Do such moments really mean, as they seem to, that we have a life of happiness with which we only occasionally, knowingly, intersect? Do they shed such light before and after that all that has happened in our lives — or that we’ve made to happen — can be dismissed?
— ALICE MUNRO
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