Slowly, as I began to get a sense of Hyderabad, the place unravelled itself through its people. I absorb the whiff of the place, the vibes, the openness of mind and space, and the blue sky. Hyderabad often feels as if caught in its past – a Nawabi hangover from its grandiose long gone.
Is death like sleep? From which we arise to an eternal life of the spirit? Is the body a mere prison? As familiar people vanished one by one, the simple questions turn complex.
It must be said that not all Nagas eat dog meat. Or, not all people from Northeast eat dog meat, writes journalist Hoihnu Hauzel
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