*picture from flickr.com
“How did the blue shirt get burnt?!”
“The iron must have been too hot.”
“Oh? And your attention of course was completely unshaken.”
Ram Lal didn’t respond. His wife’s fluent Hindi rattle continued to be heard outside their little hut at the end of the road. I slinked away, deciding to return the following morning with my little bundle of clothes to be ironed.
Of Paneer, Pulao and Pune 