At that time, we considered the Brahmins as outsiders. The Tamil they spoke was different. However, they treated us students like their own children. There was only one exception—our maths teacher, whom we called Arkay Saar. Despite being fond of us, on Mondays and Thursdays, if anyone hadn’t done their homework, he would grab his bamboo wand and beat the boy severely.
I told the policemen, ‘Charu Nivedita is my chittappa (the younger brother of father), and he has stepped out briefly. Please have a cup of tea somewhere and come back soon; I’ll call him on the phone.’
Whenever I think of Georges Bataille’s story ‘Ma Mère’, I start pondering about the concept of sin. Most of what he wrote was autobiographical and was condemned during his time, as pornographic. Yet, the idea of sin runs like a thread through all his writing. Whereas, in India, which is considered by the west as a society that is …
Prakash bought the blade and said, “Do it carefully da. If you cut a vital nerve, you’ll have to live as a khosa for the rest of your life.” So, I took the soap and the blade, stole Naina’s shaving brush and went to the cremation ground.
My mother and Naina treated me like an emperor; there was no scolding or reprimand. My mother often remarked that I should have been born in a mansion, but instead, I ended up being born in that slum. Education was nowhere to be seen in her family – only one brother among my mother’s eleven siblings received an education.
Because I have Telugu, Burmese, and Tamil ancestry, my East Asian friends often inquire whether I am from Thailand or Burma. Perhaps in my face they see the images of all these dead.
The Asian Review 