Not so long time ago when I was about nine or ten, our house was on a dead end street in small town Rourkela. At the back of our house was a road that branched off to several smaller lanes and at the end of one of these lanes was a mud house with thatched roof where an old crippled tribal man lived. As you can imagine everyone in the neighborhood called him Langda Baba (lame guy). I don’t think that anyone knew his real name, it didn’t matter from where I come your disability becomes your identity.
Thursday, October 21, 2010
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