Vol XV Rajnikant, The Urban Poor, Breakfast at Boogaloos, & Gauhar Jaan;

It was a sunny December morning. A stiff breeze whipped the leaves off the trees. In my little village Mundakotukurussi in Kerala, I soak in the sounds, sense and sights from a window. In the distance I could hear the whirr sound of the mill across the road from my house. The warm spicy scent of coriander seeds being ground wafts through the air. Continue reading