Granddad used to say that the stars were born from the smiles of women, and I never understood how right he was. Until today.
At the age of seven, all I knew for sure was that I liked the idea of
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in a quilt blanket, and a lotus flower
whose roots are enveloped by water soil.
I feel peace like I'm woven between the threads of silk sarees, pushed by Ganga's tide, and carved into the thousand pillars of stone temples.
I hold my Ammamma's hand, full of wrinkles and softer than silk, her cool breath against my forehead, eyes bright and unseeing, and I know I'm hers.
The red Indian fire lives in both of us.