If I remember correctly, it was during my school days that I first read an R. K. Narayan story titled The Missing Mail.
It was a late winter evening. It was already getting dark as the fog had started surrounding the lake. Dimple was weeping at the lakeside.
Mohan kept thinking about the argument with his wife while rowing the boat. The passengers were chatting among themselves, but that didnāt bother Mohan. He was immersed in his thoughts. He wanted to send his son to the town for better education, but his wife argued that he was too young to send away. Itās …