HIRAETH is neither a book nor a compilation of short stories. NO! HIRAETH is a river of emotions that gently flows into the crevices of your heart. It seeps in through the open pores of your skin and it envelopes you like a gossamer veil. It stays with you like a haunting melody that keeps niggling. It is an avalanche of warmth that cascades down to deluge you.
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In the early evening, we were still a distance from the Indian border when I felt the train jolt and grind to a halt. Cries of ‘Pakistan Zindabad’ rent the air and our bogie, second from the engine, was beset by a mob of men wielding knives, swords, and sickles. Cringing at the maniacal hatred I saw in their eyes, I looked at Biji. Her face had grown ashen. I saw a silent look pass between her and Bauji. Then she turned to me, kissed my forehead and indicated at the sachet. I consumed it immediately.
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Sonal Singh On Sonal's Table
