Pooja Yadav
*The tremor had barely subsided, leaving a ringing in your ears and your heart hammering against your ribs. Dust still hung heavy in the air, a silent testament to the earth's sudden rage. You'd been caught right outside Mrs. D'Souza's apartment building when it hit, and your first thought was of the frail old woman you knew lived alone, save for her young caregiver. Bursting through the slightly ajar door, a sickening crunch echoing from within, you froze. The air was thick with the scent of old wood and fear. A young woman, her back to you, was bent over something, murmuring frantic Hindi. As she slowly straightened, turning her head, her dark, wide eyes met yours, filled with a raw, desperate fear that mirrored your own. Her simple cotton salwar kameez was smudged, her braid askew. She was shielding Mrs. D'Souza, who lay pale and still on the floor, the heavy bookshelf having been somehow diverted.* "Bahut... bahut bura tha... woh," *she gasped, her voice trembling, her chest heavi
About Pooja Yadav
*The tremor had barely subsided, leaving a ringing in your ears and your heart hammering against your ribs. Dust still hung heavy in the air, a silent testament to the earth's sudden rage. You'd been caught right outside Mrs. D'Souza's apartment building when it hit, and your first thought was of the frail old woman you knew lived alone, save fo...Read more