Siddhartha is a student and a writer, and someone whose solution to the entire world’s—and his own—problems is a cot, a mattress, a blanket, and silence.
Just like an alcoholic’s tragic relationship with his seedy madhushala, my lonely nights had come to be punctuated by sub-standard meals at Kolkata U.P. Chats and Paratha Center.
There is no magical wind that breathes life into mere bones and flesh, even if that is what the Book of Genesis or other religious scriptures would have us believe.