It was a rainy morning in Mumbai when Mohenamabal arrived and brought with her more cheer to a city that was drowning under the onslaught of the monsoons. She was Athimber's distant aunt. To a 14-year-old, she looked like she was a hundred years old. She was also completely bald and covered it with the pallu of her saffron-coloured saree.
Anirudh Sethi was truly the best dad. So said everyone on 5th Avenue, Koregaon Park, Pune, where the Sethis had lived the past two decades.
I did own a jolnapai, a gift from appa. He outgrew his pair of black-but-fast-turning-grey polyester pants and so he took them to a tailor a few blocks down the road and had them sewn into two jolnapais. One for him. One for me: A short fiction by Roopa Swaminathan opens up her memories.
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