He grabs my legs and throws them over his shoulders, putting his big pipe inside me […]

No natives of this country could, I think, have drawn the cave-paintings [in Buddhist caves found in Khandesh].

They walked with an ease that bespoke strength, bespoke limbs that had never been cracked and mismended, never felt the ravages of age.

Yeah, Mama. It's me. It's Leaky. One of the orderlies snickered and I shrugged with a wry smile. Another hatesome nickname I'd never get away from.