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this the online home of author and journalist
Deepanjana Pal




short stories

"The satiny material of her burkha shone where it caught the sunlight. It stretched, dipped, billowed and moulded against her body because of the wind. The magnifying glass inched down her form, past the arc of her covered head, along the fluid lines of wind-puffed material. Hadpude didn’t blink. He just looked. His eyes travelled from head to toe, from photo to photo."