Jo dala!

No fire was to be lit for 30 days. Father had died, people flocked the homestead. Mama said the gate should be left open day and night. Weird people I had never seen, flocked in with crocodile tears, yelling praises to my father and asking rhetorical questions as to why he died. 5 minutes after the routine, they would sit down at a table and demand for tea.

Their mission was accomplished, they had the breakfast that they had come for. “Manu go to the Limate’s we will meet home in the evening.” I heard one woman say, through the fence. She spoke to her son, Manu, as she carried her bucket of water on her head walking towards her home.

That is what our home was reduced to, a free restaurant for the village. I was so numbed by it all, I did not know what to think or do. I just felt anger building up inside of me. It was the only emotion I felt. I even forgot about my father for a while. 

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