The Matchbox

He stood in the middle of the small tribal settlement, a fire-torch in his hand and a matchbox in another.   Fires raged all around him as he directed his men to set the little grass and wood houses alight.   There were people running everywhere trying to save themselves, but his face was calm,…

I Write…. Not Because I hate Modi … But Because I Love India.

The other day I wrote a post about Jayant Sinha being pitted against his own Father Yashwant Sinha and a Gentleman who’s affiliation to BJP is known to me, came and commented on it saying, “Dushman ka Dushman Dost ho gaya :p” (Enemy of an enemy has become your friend) This is not a one…