In May 1990 we were living in a storeroom on the rooftop of a two storied house in the outskirts of Jammu. The house belonged to a step-relative of my grandfather. We had the entire roof for ourselves while another Pandit family lived on rent on the ground floor. I spent part of that summer collecting frogs and toads in old paint cans that I thoughtfully kept in shade below a rusty Iron water tank. Most of my collection died in those tubs till the day I realized nyen’mondij can’t live for long in a paint tub full of water, sand, pebbles and grass.
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The News (via The Indian Express archives) that first summer.
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I was too young that summer, but I think I've never liked Jammu purely cos this summer made it the worst place ever for me.
I developed a taste for it. It's Delhi's winter that I find sad.