My Father and Mojdis: A Daughter Remembers

In the black and white photo, I am three years old. My father is holding me. I am wearing a brocade outfit, a long skirt and a blouse–the formal attire for children. Dangling from my feet are brocade shoes with upturned toes called mojdis. In the background is a...
A Bag of Ashes

A Bag of Ashes

Her father had fallen and needed stitches on his forehead, Leela’s sister, Meera said over the phone from London. She was filling her in about her recent visit to Mumbai. He is okay, she added, still Leela had immediately taken the next available flight out of...

The Sacrifice

The night is pitch dark. Shri Ganeshaya Namaha, Kartik Krishna Dvadashi, Saka 1821 [November 28, 1899] . With this invocation I write in the light of the mashal. The dry palm leaves emit more smoke than light as they burn. I am sitting in the unwalled shed near the...