Sayan Sarkar

“Let’s go,” my wife, R, said. I looked at my wristwatch. 3:40 PM. “It’s pretty cloudy outside,” I remarked. “And the wind’s picking up speed.” “You’re right,” she replied. “But if we don’t go now, we might miss the train.” When we got out into the alley in front of... Read More

Sunday morning. 5:30 AM. The city is still in a half-asleep state, lingering in that blur of dreams and wakefulness. I drag myself out of bed a bit earlier and head out to the first-floor balcony of my grandmother’s house. The balcony—Oh, this balcony has watched so many mornings of... Read More

My apartment is on the fifth floor. High enough to touch the sky, low enough that I can still hear the earth’s noises. Three sides open—south, east, west. And that openness has become my little theater. On one side, I get the first crack of light, spilling into the rooms... Read More