So you start carefully counting how many days you can go without a job. And every second, the clock ticks, and the countdown continues.
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Two African paradise flycatchers, grey-headed and chestnut-winged, decide to join in the revelry and warble as they flit in and out of the guava tree that spreads over most of the lawn.
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He walked around the mohallah mostly in silence, called out “Mishtiiiii” in a deep baritone when he felt like it.
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For starters, Prakash can’t cook. His coffee, though drinkable, is substandard. And oh yeah, the glaring issue – he’s a dude.
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Imagine being married to someone for decades, performing all the duties expected of a wife... Only to learn that all this while, your husband never loved you.
