In New Delhi, inside an institution that is three years old, is a library with a limited space. The colour of shelves is dairy milk brown. They carry books, carefully organised, every single one placed according to its Dewey call number. No dust on any of the columns. This is because the cleaner cleans it every day in the morning. On days he doesn’t, crisp flak from the chief librarian is enough. Even though his straight face doesn’t suggest anything, it is only when he gets a mug and a duster, do the workers know that he is responding to the critical reviews of the chief. But once you were taught to reduce a person to just one piece of their identity, it took a long time to learn to fill in the other details, to make them whole again and see them as fully human. ~ Milk Teeth, Amrita Mahale. In such an atmosphere, I found Milk Teeth. It is a novel by Amrita Mahale about a changi
Something like Aam Panna