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guesthouse

A flurry of ringing at the door. Nobody has been in such a hurry to feed me ever since I left home. It was Vishnu. A baldpate Vishnu. And I was ready to fist a rando. I didn’t know what to ask first: what’s gotten into your head? Or, what’s gotten into your head? Vishnu I was staying in a large company’s backyard, mostly countrified. One of those rare remaining places in the world where bigness of heart is equated to the amount of food served. So my breakfast came

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