Ravi Shankar
My grandma was the first woman
to be part of the newly built road.
She had only one milch cow. A calf.
(I took them grazing on the grass.)
Four five hens that laid eggs for us.
Boiled egg and milk rice was our staple
diet. Her dad our grand grandad was
an occult man who grew saplings from
just planted seeds. He gave us ripe
mangoes from those trees. One night,
he lay dead on a field beaten by an
odiyan. *
I learnt milking cows from her. How
she smeared butter on the udders before
milking. Milk vending machines came
much later in life when I went to a
city. She taught us many things magical
and scary like love.
When an arrack shop opened right across
the road, she frequented the shop for a
100 ML** every noon. I sat looking at the news-
paper when she drank. A new metal road
was being laid. One day, a lorry pasted
an image of her on the road. When she
died, magic died.
We became addicted to gadgets. Grand-
ma became a witch on a broom.
Grand grand dad, the wizard, became
the wizard of oz.
*Odiyan- a demon who could change his form at will.
**A measure of booze.
