I do not wish to repeat ‘The Road not Taken’ by Robert Frost. But one part of the poem keeps coming to my mind every day. Here it goes- I shall be telling this with a sigh Somewhere ages and
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Thakur Tej Bahadur- this name sent shivers down the spine of mostly all the residents of Kharegaon, a small village in Gujarat. Yes, he was very much like the most defiant and egoistic landlords there. He rode around the village
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Nandan had gone out with his father Ranga, a snake catcher, to get some materials needed to restore their hutment. Suddenly, people came out of their homes unable to contain their excitement. “Thalaivar is coming!” everyone spoke at once. “What’s
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