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Ama

No I do not wear a sari. (They don’t suit my complexion, nor am I a eunuch or dancing cross dressing religious performer) .

Ama made me do it.

In a society where parents are honoured, Ama was thrown out of home by her son. She then lived in straw huts in the dairy next door working in four of the society houses but unable to keep up. Lakshmi, a delightful lady across the road, had offered her work, but  the mother in law (a dragon to some, but who I find delightful),  is old and determined to enjoy as much power as her few remaining years will allow her. She made Ama’s  life hell.

Tired and worn but, Advity took Ama  in. After raising 13 children she deserved better. There is no spare bedroom   in Merkaba, but a role up mattress. Instead she willingly cleans as she is able has good food, clothes and a warm house to stay in.

And she enjoys mothering me –ensuring there is no waste subze even when I am screaming my stomach is full.  She feels wanted and since she doesn’t know how to use the telephone she can ask me to press the buttons when she needs make a call.

Today she somehow convinced me to iron one of her six her sari’s . All 6 metres of it, and I was petrified I would burn the six metre length of cotton.

Manna and Advity couldn’t stop laughing when I told them.

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