Cantadora - The keeper of stories.
Everybody needs his memories. They keep the wolf of insignificance from the door.
Summer memories that bring a smile on my face. there are so many, the high light of it all was unfailingly the 11th of April year after year in those magical years as child, before my mother became the prototype of bay area mothers, my brother and I would keep a watch on the roads, to see the emerging Java or Bullet my grandpa’s younger brother Bhima-chikkappa would zip by on the bike.
The day would be unerringly perfect, the sun shining, breeze blowingm the birds and singing, there were no lawn mowers.
Packing never seemed an issue we just dropped few clothes into a shopping bag, ironning, dressing for the occasion were all unheard of. If we did have an event to attend we borrowed our cousin’s clothes. Down the slopes of perampalli, forests on either sides…
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