I had traveled down South to meet my grandmother during my college holidays. I was seated on the sofa next to her ailing self. Her movements were restricted due to rheumatism and she required support. As we sat catching up on the happenings in each other’s lives we heard someone at the door. My mother’s distant cousin had dropped by. She looked quite pale and weak. Her shoulders were drooping and her hair was disheveled. After the initial greeting the cat was out of the bag. Her husband had suffered heavy losses in…

               Hmmmm…. suddenly it was very quiet. She had been narrating a story which has been my favorite, Little Krishna’s antics. It was the one where his mother tied him to a mortar. I never get tired listening to it. Probably she had gone off to sleep for I could hear the rhythmic sound of breathing and nothing else. I decided to stay still as I didn’t want to disturb her. It looked as if she had had a long day. Well it sure would be, now…