“There’s a great drought in my village. People are dying. The price of rice and pulses has rocketed. There is no water anywhere. And here, people are complaining about the rain...”

“There’s a great drought in my village. People are dying. The price of rice and pulses has rocketed. There is no water anywhere. And here, people are complaining about the rain...”

“What better hiding place than an old, woodlice-ridden album of photographs!”

“Sometimes, it is easier to leave things as they are, rather than to fight, go against the flow.”

“There’s a great drought in my village. People are dying. The price of rice and pulses has rocketed. There is no water anywhere. And here, people are complaining about the rain...”

“Where are the coconut trees bowing allegiance to the wind, the wide open spaces, the verdant green fields?”

“She liked the way a ray of mild autumn sun infiltrating the thick cluster of trees caught a reddish orange leaf swirling in the wind and transformed it golden yellow. She liked that it wasn’t a leaf she recognised, that she could name or associate with her past.”

“You put cow dung on my face?’ ‘Every day religiously until you were three. Why else do you think your skin is so clear?”

“You don’t live in luxury! You are relegated to sleep in the little store room behind the kitchen with the cockroaches and rats and are at the mercy of Mrs. Gupta,’ Reena was indignant. ‘It’s five-star accommodation compared to a mud hut.”

“What am I doing here, Reena? Why am I dancing to the tunes of that old hag?’‘You are saving your family.”

“I wash the clothes, rinse them and then scrub them again. Will that square little box do that? I am not using any fancy machines when my hands will do.”

“Every family has secrets, Reena, and they’re there for a reason.”