Cycle of Cliches
Crematoriums aren’t meant to arouse nostalgia, or even if they are, I am yet to discover it.
Where was I? Oh yes, I remember. I was in the bedroom next to our living room in our Tezpur house, eavesdropping on the conversation between Deuta and his colleagues. In his late forties, Talukdar-khura had seen much of the world, struggled his way up from a half-starving kid of a penniless farmer to a commercially successful teacher, earning good enough to see his children’s dreams come true. He had a very simple way of explaining things and that’s what made him different from others in his domain. His main source of earning was the huge flock of students from the neighbourhood who came to him for p