Return Gift
She would be sitting outside the shelter home building, under the only tree that dared to brave the sun glaring down on the old school courtyard. As soon as I push the large, rusty gate open, I would find her fix her gaze on me, and wait patiently as I made my way across the courtyard to where she sat. I would smile, and sync my lips to a muted, “ Saaptingala” and gesture with one hand towards my mouth, as she would grab my other hand and literally drag me into the building. Once inside the empty dormitory room, lined only with the meagre belongings of about twenty old destitute women, she would spread a mat on the floor and seat me down on it. We had a unique connection, this old lady (Ammayamma) and I. She would move her toothless mouth in a multitude of directions, not knowing what sounds emerged from it as she tried to communicate with me. I would attempt to understand what she said, and occasionally needed some help from her roommates. She would be telling me about meeting h