Payel Sen The Return to the Hills The chill in the Darjeeling air always brought back memories for Atanu. As the toy train screeched into Ghum station, the soft drizzle on the windowpane blurred the world outside. He was forty-two now, with streaks of grey in his once-black hair and lines around his eyes that time had carved silently. A literature professor from Kolkata, he had returned to Darjeeling after two decades for a seminar. But deep inside, he knew it wasn’t just the seminar that drew him here. It was a name he hadn’t spoken aloud in years. Maya.…
