: In this book of short stories women do things they are not expected to in India #IndiaNEWS That Sunday dawned pink and purple, the promise of another lovely, early winter day. Wild chrysanthemums,

In this book of short stories women do things they are not expected to in India #IndiaNEWS
That Sunday dawned pink and purple, the promise of another lovely, early winter day. Wild chrysanthemums, planted long ago, by unknown hands, nodded along the stretch of green that skirted their village, an unremarkable speck in north-west India. The milkman’s cycle trundled down the street, its shrill bell waking up the dogs. the puppies jumped and yipped, but the older ones only yawned with disinterest. they were used to the milkman’s daily intrusions.When the doorbell rang, Shaaji muttered, “Yes, yes. I am coming, I am coming.??? Next to her, her mother snored loudly, a spot of drool drying on her chin. There were deep lines of disapproval etched on her forehead. Shaaji had seen these lines ever since she could remember. For a second, she considered wiping her mother’s chin. But then she didn’t. Only in sleep could her mother be this loud and free, this uncaring of other people’s opinion. Why ruin it? The bell rang again, this time a long and impatient peal. “Yes, yes,??? Shaaji groaned. “I’ll be right there.??? She wrapped a shawl around her shoulders and searched for her slippers on the cold, concrete floor. They lay on top of each other, the toes and heels jutting out...Read more

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