“Coprapura?” “Thengappura.” “Manga?” “Thenga.” “Oh. Thyanga.” “Yeah, Thenga.” “Thyangapora.” “No, Thengappura lane.” “I think I’ve heard it somewhere (Not somewhere, my friends. I have already told this bloody son of a bitch a thousand times). So you come from Thyangappura lane,” his brows arch; a scornful smile breaks out across his evil face. People know that I live in Thengappura lane; but still they find fun in running me through this painful ritual until they hear the hellish name blurt … Continue reading
