flowers from the bush near the water tank on the terrace with the raw mangoes strewn over the floor (careful, one mustn't step on them) and more jasmines from the bush down the stone path leading up to the house, near the well which we don't use till the monsoon has past, he whispered into my ears.
this blast from the past of an image emerged a couple of weeks ago though in karnataka, a brahmin picking flowers from his bush on the terrace right after his morning ablutions in the pond. and grandpa? he isn't here anymore.
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