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Aunty, our neighbour, would often complain that her husband
Aunty, our neighbour, would often complain that her husband, Shiv Ram, was a drunkard. My father drank too, but my mother never complained. Shiv Ram uncle was a lean man with a thin moustache and black plastic spectacles that forever slipped down his nose. His half-sleeved shirt was never tucked in, and his feet, even …...
From Wrists Full of Rakhis to Empty Wrists: How Time Changes Everything
I must have been four years old, travelling by train with my father to Jalandhar. A lady sitting next to me asked, “How many brothers and sisters do you have?” I started naming them, counting on my fingers, and confidently said, “Eleven.” Her eyes widened in disbelief. How could my father, still in his thirties, …...
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