Tuesday, June 10, 2008


Yesterday afternoon a dear friend emails me from Pindi with news of her father's death...rephrasing Lahiri 'news of these deaths never gets lost in (spam) mail as other letters do'....like Ashima and Ashoke I feel I live the lives of the 'extremely aged'...'those for whom everyone they once knew and loved are lost'.

I find myself consoling myself in the oddest way...at times on the train I stare at a pair of hands and trick myself into thinking that they are my grand father's...the whiff of Old Spice...eating ginger biscuits and hard toffee to summon afternoons with a grand mother.

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