4/5/2023 0 Comments Short story in hindiA long line of soot travels all the way up to the ceiling. The electric bulb looks discoloured it has been completely taken over by insects.įrom the wall, above the bed, hangs a strip of wood holding an oil lamp. Right next to the pillow is a canister covered with a shabby cloth, on top of which sits the telephone. An old, small table, with a TV on top, is placed in another corner. Date leaves are strewn in one corner and amongst them lie a few mats made from plaited date leaves. A few wads of wool sit on top of its pressed layers. To the left is a basket stuffed with unspun sheep wool. Ma must bring it here after she’s done with the churning next to the hearth. On the right side of the door, as you walk in, there is a clay pot for churning milk, covered with a rag. The walls are in a similar state-layers of cobwebs and dead insects pressed against them. The wooden ceiling above is covered in cobwebs-a few flies caught dead in them. It’s crammed with all sorts of things-in the same way as it gets crammed with the morning light. Intimate as her room seems, it also looks a little forlorn. It’s drenched in light from the morning sun. Her mornings are spent in the cowshed, feeding and watering the animals, milking the cows, heaping dung.Įven today, Ma’s not in. On most days Ma is up early and out of the house, the door shut behind her, doing outdoor chores. I have come back to the village after months.
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