I told her a story today. Her story. How she had told me about Jambavan,about Shantanu and Satyavati, about how she had to carry Kichu to prevent him from eating camphor while in the puja room....
She had been bathed and fed, the sheet on the water bed changed. The roles reversed,my great grandmother smiled as I spoke holding her hand.She couldn't comprehend my account of the class trip to Ganapati Pule or my friend Sreeja's wedding but she still recognised my voice.
Amma says there are goods days when television interests her and she finds fault with the food. But most of the days are spent in sleep-heavy yet not sound. Her mind wanders,oblivious...in a world where no one is granted permission to enter or interrupt. In limbo on the bridge between life and death...in twilight zone.
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