Beginnings
"At once she was the stillness and the word, A continent of self-diffusing peace, An ocean of untrembling virgin fire: The strength, the silence of the gods were hers" ~Ghosh (Savitri) She sat in the waiting room. There was no clock there. Maybe it wasn’t a bad thing. She couldn’t make up her mind on the matter though. She glanced down and noticed the colour of her sari; crisp, starched and neatly pleated. Her son had told her that she looked stunning in it. She realised that he was getting better at flattery. Flattery would serve him well. Women liked being flattered. She liked it. She wore that sari quite often, and at special occasions. Her son would be fine. It was her daughter she was worried about. It was all her fault. She had never let go of the little one. The daughter was older than the boy but she held her closer, confided in her and brought her up as a friend. The little one was quite awkward and shy. They both had the most beautiful smiles; ones that ...