mothers memories

Memories are like a handful of sand. You want to hold on to them but they slither away, fading gently but surely. In panic, we turn to props to refresh them. An old faded picture, a yellowing letter written in hand, an email, a video and sometimes even a possession or a smell. When I Read More →

I was sitting and having tea with the husband and having a chat when his mobile phone rang. One minute into the conversation, he offered to the person at the other end in a honey-drenched voice, “Why don’t you talk to my wife? She has been handling this issue and knows much more than me.” Read More →