Thursday, November 29, 2012

There couldn't be a perfect ending

There is a joint initiative from the experienced bloggers to develop the fiction writing skills of the fellow bloggers. They conduct workshop giving us the basic plot around which we have to build the story. This is the third edition and my first one. This time Leo has given us the basic plot which you can read here. And below is my entry for this round. The entry is also put up in the Indifiction blog here.


I stood frozen for a minute. I stood there like I was paralyzed. Not by the disease but by the incidents. The day couldn't have gone worse than this. I was standing in an orphanage  in my constituency. This was the very orphanage where Sandhya grew after the accident which had taken her parents. The conversation with the old man still haunted me.

“How is Sandhya?” 

“She is fine, sir. She is in fact in a great form helping NGOs in their activities. ”

“I know her social participation. I asked about her health?”

“Health? What is there about her health? She is healthy! May I know who you are and why you are asking this?”

“I am the doctor who used to visit this home once every week some 10 years back. I also used to be the psychiatric advisor for Sandhya. Had not she mentioned me?”

“Psychiatric? What the hell?”

He told the events of ten years back. He also told me how far the accident in which she lost her dear parents had affected and depressed her. He also told me about the abnormal behavior of Sandhya during those days which I have not seen in her since our first meeting. I doubted the doctor but when I called the old manager of the orphanage  he reluctantly accepted the fact. And, I decided to call off the campaign and called my secretary. 

“Call off the campaign which is scheduled for the evening. I am done for the day. I am retiring to home now.”

“Sir, But the party head may question you regarding the cancellation.”

“I will take care of that. Ask the driver to leave home. I will drive to home.”

“Aahh.. Yes sir!”

I felt like the world was falling out of my hands. I had blows back to back today. First was Sandeep’s call in the morning. And now this doctor. Why on earth worst things are happening to me? I haven't done anything bad to anyone. I have been a virtuous guy even to the most sordid ones. I should have been a common man. Only after I had pursued this politics stream, things started going bad. Why did I take up this? I am a politician turned engineer. My blood line is a political one where our duty is to serve people. But I don't know if all the other political bloodlines take an oath to serve people. But mine does. My grandfather served as the finance minister during the tenure of the first Chief Minister of Madras Presidency whereas my father had been a Rajya Sabha member. Though I had plans for starting a management consultancy, I pursued this line due to my father’s death. That was a year back and the party immediately allocated me the same constituency as my father’s but this time it is for the state elections. Yes, I am contesting for the Member of Legislative Assembly from my own constituency. Our party’s rival assumed that this constituency is so easy to pluck from our side and so my party head has tipped me to be a minister once I win this contest.

I had hated this government since my childhood. I hated the corruption and the lazy way of these people. Initially I protested against my father’s idea of joining the party but eventually gave it in. It was my mother who advised me that I could change the way in which the government is working. So I took up this field thinking that I could put my part in cleaning up the country and that I have enough money as bank balance and a lot of assets and liabilities. I am doing well in this campaign now and I am genuine. I have earned a huge respect and response from the locals. My wife is giving me ideas and suggestions as far the promises are concerned. The polls conducted by the media and the college students are in favor of me. This campaign is a taxing one and I could not have done this without Sandhya. She gives me the moral support and the self-confidence which is the most needed one for the victory. Sandhya! I married Sandhya who worked in the same company where I worked. When she joined my office, the first information I learnt about her was that her parents were long dead in an accident. I also heard that she stayed at an orphanage teaching small kids there. My sympathy for her had turned into love. There was a little protest from my father's side initially but my mother cajoled him to accept and we have been leading a great life so far except this problem which is troubling my mind.

I rode my new wine red BMW X6 in NH-66 at a speed of 125 Kms/Hr. A speed too high for a soft person like me and a road of this type. As usual, I switched on my Music Player which started playing songs in a shuffle. The conversations with Doctor and Sandeep went on in my sub-conscious mind. I am devastated and the mirror showed my worried face. I planned the way I am going to tell her about Sandeep and ask her about the doctor. I called her but she didn’t pick up the call. I didn’t try for the second time. What if Sandeep has done the way he had told? Anyhow, I made a vow that I should not hurt her by my words.


This could not be happening to me. He is not the kind Sandeep told me. Sandeep should have done it for the money. I think I saw fury and greed in his eyes. He should be a sordid and a horrendous one. But on the contrary what if the photos were true and not morphed? What if Sandeep is true? What if my husband has cheated me? Oh no, Deepak is a trustworthy-one. I can count on him. But these photos are showing me that I am wrong. God please be merciful. Please tell me that I am wrong and Deepak is not. Please help me. I wailed.

“Amma!” The servant-maid called me. 


“I heard you shouting and sobbing. Any problem?”

“Are you eaves-dropping? Now get to the ground floor and do your goddamn work you stupid nut less crack!” I shouted.

She apparently went to a state of trauma for a moment, stood there for a minute and left. She had not seen me in this hysterical state. No one else had. My gaze returned to the photos. These photos have showed my psychic nature which hid in me for a long time. I feared that I will let all loose if I see Deepak.

I had none other than Deepak in this world to rely on, to tell things, to share happiness, to spend time with, and to believe completely. I cannot stand if he has cheated me. I wish I had not seen Sandeep today morning. I wish I had not talked to him. I wish I had not seen the photos. I wish I had not believed them. I wish.

“Shit! Shit! Shit!”

I tried to recall his face and his hideous conversation.

It was around 9 A.M. in the morning. Someone rang the door bell. 

“Saravana, See who it is!”

“Okay mam.”

After brief moments, Saravanan came to my room and told me that the guest was a friend of Deepak and his name was Sandeep. I told Saravanan to make him wait in the living room and provide him something to eat. He left the place. I dressed properly and got down the stairs. I had not seen him before and that was our first encounter. God knows how many are still left with him.

“Hi, I am Sandeep. I am an old friend of your better half Mr.Deepak! I worked as his assistant in his office.”

“Hi Sandeep!”

He smiled curving his lips. I didn't feel comfortable with that guy unsure about the reason. I felt uneasy. I often shifted my position in my seat. I felt as if I am exposed in front of him. I wanted to run away covering to my room. I gazed into his dark blue eyes. The eyelids closed and opened almost incessantly. He had combed his hair like a corporate with a straight silver line separating his scalp into two equal halves. He had a shaven face except for a small puff of hair below his lower lip. He was wearing a jean and a T-shirt with a coolers in it. His shoes were polished well. It almost shone. This guy could easily attract anyone. A lady of any sort, kind and living. But his same eyes also showed me that he should be cold-blooded. I wondered why he should be so persistent in meeting me! I also concluded that I should finish my meeting with this guy as soon as possible! I went straight into the matter!

“So, Sandeep what brings you here in the absence of my husband? Shall I make a call asking him to come home for an hour or so? He should be pleased to meet you like I do now.”

Well, I should say that he was actually shaken hearing a statement of this kind! He looked deeply troubled yet he maintained his sexy smile.

“That would not be necessary maam. He should be busy in his campaign. I wish that he wins.”

“That’s so nice of you!”

“So how is your husband? Is he well? Has he mentioned about me?”

“He is absolutely fine. Had you watched televisions, you would have known his elegance. And sorry, he had not mentioned a lot about you but that you always pestered him for money sir!”

“How could he possibly tell only that?”

“Why not sir? Why should not he mention about your annoyance in this matter?”

He frowned for a second but regained his composure almost immediately.

“Didn't he tell anything at all other than this?”

“What are you expecting him to tell me about you sir possibly other than this?”

For the second time, I made him frown though I felt uneasy.

“Oh he would certainly create a bad image about me. For I know his dark secrets!”

I wanted to shout out “You Bastard, get out now!” But my curiosity took the better of me. There it ended up with a few photos of my husband and a girl named Aruna. The ringing of the doorbell brought me back to present. I prayed that it shouldn't be my husband.

“Coming, sir!” Saravanan said. 


I recalled my conversation with Sandeep. He was my assistant in the company at Bangalore. To cut short, he is a grievous squalid money-laundering monster. He set out his girls to be close with the rich guys and shoots photos to make money. That was his work in Chennai. Bangalore was a new place for him and he was quiet for a few years. Then he started his monstrous work. Once in a party, he set out one girl to talk to me.

“Hey, Deepak. I work in your rival company. And I am a great fan of your Economic policies and Management techniques.”

“Thank you!” I managed a smile.

“Let us have a sip of beer!” She called me.

“I don’t drink! Thanks for the invite.”

“Ha, here is the teetotaler! Hey one night ya” She pulled me by my hand. I lost my balance and fell over her. Immediately I withdrew from the floor. Actually I withdrew from her. But she didn't leave me. I realized there were a few flashes but could not spot them. I stormed out of the place. I heard her curses. I don’t even know her name. I tried to locate her in that company the next day and it ended up that there was no person in that name.

I came to know that it should have been the work of Sandeep from one of my buddies in Chennai and he actually praised me for controlling myself. I fired him immediately yet he never troubled me with those photos he had. I wondered. A decade has passed since then.

He must have planned it. With the election in 10 days, he called me and threatened me to withdraw from the contest else he would hand over the photos to the media. I wondered what could be the reason? I controlled my fury and told him to do whatever he can for I was clean. He told that he would show me a sample today and I would learn that sample from my home. I understood all about that. He had threatened to show those photos to my Sandhya.

I tried not to care about this and continued with my campaign and that is where I heard that devastating news. I was deeply troubled about Sandhya rather than her problem. Why the hell didn't she confide in me that she has under gone the psychiatric advice? I was in a complete dilemma whether to tell Sandhya about Sandeep or not. I decided against it thinking that it might trigger her mental problem. I looked to my side to see the mind-blowing airport. I am admired by the sight of it and it promised me of a great Tamilnadu in future. I reached home and parked my car in the shed.

I hate to wear Dhoti which is a necessary dress (A uniform) for politicians down south. And so I was wearing a shirt and a pant which is neither too formal nor too casual. I walked reluctantly and came to the front door. I rang the bell.

“Coming, Sir!” yelled Saravanan.


Here he is at last. Nothing is happening today as per my wish. Sandeep’s meet. My rage took the better of me today. I watched the broken vases and the crumbled papers. For the first time after several years from that ghostly night, I felt that I am unprotected. I lost my parents in an accident. That is what I told everyone including Deepak. But that was not true. I looked at the only memory of my parents. My father’s watch. I don’t remember all of it. Yet I remember the most important part.

His smile. We were all travelling in a Sumo to our place in Gujarat. Other than three of us, there was one more in the car. He was my father’s partner and he was driving the car. He stopped it in the highway and told that he needed to take a piss. Suddenly there were people around the car. It all happened in an instant. I saw the dead bodies of my parents and the partner’s smile. He threw me out and drove the Sumo back with my parents. With their dead bodies. I begged for my every day food. At times when people mock at me, I used to bite them or scratch them that they considered me dangerous and threw me in the orphanage. I had some doctors who slowly controlled my rage and made me what I am today. I have not confided my darkest secret of me to anyone. The only people who knew that I had undergone psychiatric tests were the doctor and the home’s supervisor. That supervisor was dead years ago and that doctor is in America now. No one else could know this I thought.

I had controlled my rage for all my married years but now I let it loose. God save me. Someone knocked my door.


It is my husband’s voice!

I didn't know if I should open the door showing him the ugly face of mine and seeing his face. There were the broken vases and in the bed were some photographs. I cried. I chided my parents for not taking me with them. But Deepak is not just a man for me. He loved me a lot. He has been protecting me like a child for all these years. I struggled between my doubt and love. I wanted to ask him the question. I wanted to ask him about the photographs plucking his collar. I strolled towards the door and opened it. There he was standing with tears in his eyes. Oh, he knew about the photographs. His tears mean that they are true. I am betrayed but I see love in his eyes.


The front door opened. And Saravanan immediately told about the visit of my friend. I immediately knew who that visitor could be. I was annoyed and I knew that things would not the same between me and Sandhya as before though I would explain the details. I didn't know what to do. I could not see her anywhere in the hall or in the living room. I stormed in and looked. The stairs were empty from where she usually smiles at me when I enter the home. I easily noticed that her door was bolted on the inside which is unusual. I threw myself on the sofa. Tears welled up in my eyes. I couldn't do anything for I am helpless. Shit! Things have gone wrong because of me. I must do something to ease the situation. I slowly climbed up the stairs. And there I stood in front of her door. I heard her sobs. Suddenly everything went blank in my mind. I turned around to my room but decided against it. I knocked the door.

“Sandhya!” I called her.

After a few seconds, she opened the door. I saw tears in her eyes. She was sobbing.


There was a tension in the surrounding air. There prevailed an eerie silence for neither of them spoke. Deepak entered the room and the first thing to get his attention was the photographs in the bed. Later he also noticed the broken vases and the crumbled papers. He knew that he had brought her former-self back. He chided himself for that.

None spoke. Not even the echo of any faintest sound hit their ear membrane. Both stared at each other. There was an unconditional love in the eyes of both of them. There started a mute conversation between them.

“What you could tell about this Mr. Deepak?”

“Please let me explain!”

“I didn't expect this Deepak. I thought that you are the world to me. I thought I could trust you at any circumstance. You betrayed me!”

Tears rolled over Deepak’s cheeks. And there were tears in her eyes well. Sandhya thought that she had it all wrong. It was Deepak who gave her a feeling that she too was adorable. It was Deepak who gave her a reason to live. It was Deepak who helped her earn a huge respect in the society. She thought that he could not have betrayed her. But these photographs?

“I saw your doctor!” He motioned towards her father’s watch and those broken vases.

“I thought that…” Before she could complete, Bhuvana yelled from the hall.

“Amma, the guy who visited our home today morning was arrested for threatening the rich by the photographs he took taking advantage of the unexpected situation with the help of the girls he hired. The police are telling that there are several business tycoons who have lodged a complaint against him for his threats.”

She chided herself for her momentary doubt. She slowly turned her gaze from him. He too didn't want to ask her about her psychiatric tests.

“We must not let our dog into the bedroom here after. See the damage it has done.” Deepak laughed.

“We must not let the stray dogs enter our gate even. See what it has done to us.” Sandhya too laughed.

She ran towards him and hugged him. He concluded that things would not be the same as before. But it would be much better than before!

Saturday, November 10, 2012

Celebrate Diwali and a cause too please!

Person 1: The Government has limited the number of subsidized LPG cylinders to 6 per connection. It is going to be very difficult to manage with only 6 cylinders per year.

Person 2: If you can't manage with 6 cylinders, you can buy more cylinders at a non subsidized rate at 900 rupees. The subsidized value is around Rs.450.

Person 1: It is almost double. But if you have 2 LPG connections, you must fill the KYC form and surrender one. Now multiple connections are forbidden. This is a blow to the middle class families. That too, at the time of Diwali.
Person 3: But there are rumors that even those who have single LPG connection have to fill the KYC form and submit. Even the gas agencies are in confusion. SO I have to come to get the form and fill it in spite of having single connection. 

My study holidays started a day back. My dad told me to run some errands as I was on leave yesterday. I went to the agency to get the KYC form and I noticed three people talking. I eaves dropped their conversation.

"Oh God! I have forgotten the Diwali. Just 5 more days. How I could possibly forget the wondrous festival!" I almost gasped. That continued with a train of thoughts.

Diwali! Deepavali! The festival of Lamps! We start our celebrations one month prior to it. Buy new clothes one month early has been the unsaid rule. Buy multiple dresses is also another one. One week before the occasion, we happily start to buy crackers. You handpick each cracker while thinking about its fun. At the same time, your mom starts preparing sweets and savories. Two days before the arrival of the function, either you land in your relative's home or your relatives in yours. Then the next few days will be fun.. Complete fun. Wake up early in the morning, have oil bath, wear new-dresses, eat and distribute sweets, burst crackers safely, watch special episodes in television and talk with your people have been the agenda for Diwali for a longer period. Though several admirable things in the life of the people have gone due to the arrival of technology, times like Diwali help us remember our culture.

"Thambi vazhi viduppa!" (Brother, please give me way!)

My thoughts stopped. And what I saw has been affecting me till now. The laborers from the agency were starting to their usual routine. It was 11 A.M. The sun was too much cruel on earth at that time. These people were wearing uniforms. I don't know if those were cotton or polyester. They were pushing the tricycle with nearly 20 gas cylinders fully loaded. They were not pushing it so gently. They gathered their entire strength in their arms and pushed it. Each cylinder must be around 15 kg. Please calculate the entire load! Three of them passed my side. Full of sweat and smell. They perspired a lot like they have got drenched in rain. But there was determination in everyone's face. I started feeling so bad seeing their condition. 

Image: Harikrishna Raghuraman

The images of those laborers pedaling the vehicle are haunting me even now. "The corporations producing LPG are already at a loss," reports our Natural Gas minister. Yeah, I accept the Government is also suffering a high expenditure owing to the subsidies. So they have raised the amount. So what are they going to do with the amount they are gonna get as a hike now? Increase their profit? Deposit in the banks? Invest more to meet the needs of the people? Save for the future? What plans does the Government have?

Aren't they going to do something for their employees?

I am not talking about those employees who are at a higher position sitting in an A.C. room seeing accounts or those who shout at press conferences! I am talking about those who toil under the sun. I am giving voice for those who actually serve the people! 

Image: Harikrishna Raghuraman

After some time, I left the place to my home. When you think about something new, it is most likely that you will see it again and again. That is what happened. As I was on my way home, I saw several more gas people pedaling the vehicle with huge loads. Will this government try doing something for them? Something to reduce their physical strain? Everyone will be ready to pay 20 bucks extra if the government or the corporations decide to use that for buying these people a motor cycle to carry the loads.

I have not thought about this part of the people ever before. For the first time, when it struck me yesterday, it had struck me well. This Diwali may give them something that previous Diwalis have not given them ever. A relief for them! Will government give these people a hope? Let us hope that they and this Diwali will. After all, hope is a great thing.

"Diwali is a time for celebration, but it is also a time for reflection – a time when we must remember that there are always others less fortunate then ourselves. This holiday reminds us all that we should commit ourselves to helping those in need. For many, this is also a time to gather with family and to pray." This was USA President Barack Obama's last year Diwali message. Apart from enjoying these large number of festivals we have, we gotta think about those who are less fortunate than us. Please don't tell that we are less fortunate. There are people who have never had any fortune in their life. Like those people in tin-sheet huts or those who dance for their daily food in train. Think about these hapless people and help them. Let them at-least have good food on this Diwali. Hope this post has created an awareness among several readers.

Image: orkut images

A very happy and a prosperous Diwali to you and your family. Have fun and be safe!

P.S: Today's date is 10.11.12. It is a nice combination of numbers. This is the second last time we have a date like this in this century. The last one will be 11.12.13, next year. And I thought I could blog on this date!

Image: Harikrishna Raghuraman

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

My third grandmother

"Those who asked for Thoppampatti, please get ready with your luggage. The next stop is Thoppampatti" shouted the conductor. Ramasamy woke with a start. 

This is my birthplace. The place I was brought up and the place we abandoned due to my work 8 years back. For those who don't know about Thoppampatti, it is a small village in Tirupur district. The nearest railway station is Tirupur district and the airport is Coimbatore. One can see it as a place full of agricultural greenish lands and the grazing cattle. Every piece of land here is covered with greenery.

The bus stopped and we got down. Me, my wife and my son. My son requested this bus journey. And surprisingly I was the only one who was standing in the bus stop. I remember those days when we used to go to our school in Dharapuram by bus as a gang of students always crowding the very same bus stop. This bus stop always served as a place for discussions of those jobless people. They used to come here after their lunch and talk till the sunset and the moon appeared. It is empty now.

I walked through the very same muddy road which was sandwiched between pieces of green lands. It was the only route to the village. My thoughts wavered. Why did I come here after 8 years? I was recalling my childhood and teenage days.

Those were the days of innocence and happiness. I was the only son of my parents who had a great respect among the people here. Every decision in the village was consulted with my father before being announced. My father was not a big landlord but an ordinary farmer who had only a few acres of land as I remember. Still everyone respected him because of his principles and actions. And as his son, I was also respected by the people. Boys and girls of my age considered me as their leader and we were happily spending our time. My mother was a house wife. She took care of cows and buffaloes in home. I remember the way she used to speak to them. She also taught me the language of the animals. I loved being with her and enjoyed talking to animals sounding their "moos" and "woos" well. My grandparents lived in my uncle's home a few meters away from ours. Other than three of us, the only six sensed being in that home was our servant-maid. 
Her name was..... 

Oh I don't remember her name. No, I don't know it neither does anybody. But I used to call her "aaya" which is the local term of "Grandmother". She also used to call me as "thambi" which meant "brother" but it was also used to call their lovable people especially their children. 

I don't remember as of when she joined as servant-maid in my home. She always told me that she had served my grand-father and had seen the growth of both my father and me. She never ceased to talk to me whenever she got the time. She had none at that time as far as I knew. Her only son died of a choleric attack during his childhood. However there were a few in the nearby villages who were her relatives. And yet no one called on her and they were horrendous people. She also never took care as to meet them. She found it completely happy and comfortable in our home. My father had built her a small room behind our home in which she lived. I used to be there always.

I still remember her daily chores. She used to get up at 4.30 in morning and sweep the entrance. She used to put a big 'kolam' in front of our home. Around 5.00, she used to enter our home from behind and prepare coffee and wake my mom and dad. I always sleep till 6, even today. She helped my mom in breakfast and lunch. Then around 6.00 she used to wake me by her village folk songs. Then she got busy helping me in getting ready to school. Though my father insisted her daily to take rest considering her age, she didn't stop helping us. She used to drop me to school and get to my father's field and work. Around 2 P.M. she had her lunch and talked with my mom till the sunset. From the sunset till I sleep, she spent her time with me.

She always narrated stories not about her but all about others. I could easily recall her stories for they are of common men and are neither historical nor fictitious. She always engaged herself in teaching me at least one 'Thirukkural' everyday. But I usually took more than a week to do one and she expected me to do one per day. Every story of her had morale and dramatic ending. She argued that a life without morals is a life without breath. She didn't know a thing about the science or the math. I taught her to read and write letters. I took a vow to make her efficient in both skills. But after all, she could only manage to put her signature. 

She didn't know to cook briyani. Neither kuruma nor other fancy dishes. Yet her ordinary dishes were exemplary. I have not found a sambar as tasty as hers. She used to sit and grind all the masalas herself chiding the chemicals in the masalas bought in the shop. She handpicked every fruit from the garden she maintained and cooked our daily food. She always managed to add a herb in our daily food either directly or indirectly stating that it always protected our health.

Once, I got chicken pox. A disease was then viewed from a religious point and was never given any medical treatment. The person would be made to lie on the spread of the neem leaves, a well-known disinfectant. A bunch of neem leaves would be used as a "visiri" (a fan). It was my aaya who was sitting beside me swinging those leaves to make me cool. As far as I remember, she neither ate nor slept those days. 

She usually smiled showing all her teeth. Her teeth were always red in colour because of her betel leaves and one of them was affected by tooth cavity; It was right bottom I think. She always had betel leaves in a box in her hand. I don't remember her without that box even a day. One can easily note her presence with the odour of the chewed betel leaves with lime. She always filled the surrounding air with her own folk songs which had a lot of value. She never walked but ran. She was so active and fast in all her actions. She had been so wise that she even helped my dad in taking decisions. She always wore a cotton saree (red or blue only) and never let her hair loose. She had a short-sight but her hearing power was strong. She had the hearing power as that of a dolphin. She never had made out of the village. This village was all she knew.

I left for Chennai for my under graduation studies. I missed her right from her presence 
to her talks. When I went to my village for the first time after joining college, I wanted to buy something for her. I went to my village and took her to town. I made her check her eye power and got her a spec. She smiled showing her decayed tooth. For the first time in my life, I was so happy. Years rolled over and I got placed in a company in Bangalore. My contact with her got reduced. Yet whenever I visited my village, I spent more time with her rather than my parents. I often surprised her with new things. She never understood the technology and refused to use electrical grinders or mixers over the mechanical ones. 

My marriage happened a few years later and she crossed her village for the first time to Coimbatore where it took place. I let her name my first and only child. She named him her grandfather name. My wife was a professor and she could not resign her job. I could not take care of my child the same way as I was taken care in my young days. So I called my parents and also her. But she refused. I was astonished and she told that she would always live in her father's and son’s land and never leave it. My father's friend occupied our house and we had then given him strict instructions to take very good care of her. He obliged. My father visited her frequently and I almost made it once a year. But later my father's health had made long travel difficult. But I decided that I should not leave her and visited two times a year midst my busy schedules. So visiting my village almost stopped for my parents except for regular phone calls....

"Thambi, neram ayirchu..." (Son, it’s almost time)

My train of thoughts stopped and I came back to the present. I saw my home after a long time. I am behind my home now in front of that single room. I stared at my aaya's lifeless body in front of me. 
None is so lucky to get a servant-maid like I got. She isn't an ordinary servant-maid but my third grandmother and the closest of all.

Last night I received a call that my beloved aaya died. 

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...