I hesitated for publishing this story quite late, but there’s a beauty in rewinding. Makes me appreciate how all those days have become of me. The clever fall of dominoes of life events that led me to still standing. A very happy new year to all!
Thoughts inspired by Atheena Wilson's booty shaking anti-bachelorette tea party with wine. The journey of womankind from being ripe for the marriage market to become the Goddess. All in Frida Kahlo style with blessings of Her Highness Princess Gouri Parvathi Bayi.
Before I left to London, it was always a wish to gift Ammachi something special. She always said that only until I was a woman, I would wear sarees. I picked up the sarees from her wardrobe and visited some of the most important places in her life.
She may never say,” I love you,” she never has to. We all just know. This may perhaps be the shortest chapter. Only because Ammachi believes that love is pointless if only talked about or even boastfully shown. It’s something that ought to live in you.
Four days before her sister’s wedding, they lost their mother. My grandmother had a wedding and a funeral on her shoulders. She put on the bravest face and a dull colored saree to the wedding, she was now the mother of all.
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