In The Convent Of Little Flowers - Plot & Excerpts
200 BC–AD 300)It is the letter that brings him back, because he did not know she could even write. So he comes here to stand in the courtyard, in front of this man who was once so beloved. The letter rests carefully folded in his shirt pocket, the strap of his camera holding it to his chest. The man seated in the armchair, his grandfather, will never see it. He has not even asked why Ram is here. Anger claws at the air around them, cleaving through their stillness. But outside, in the village that hugs the foothills of small, unnamed hills, all is still quiet.Morning mist hangs gracefully over Pathra, swallowing the small village in its white folds, swirling between the leaves of the many-armed banyan in the center square. The streets leading in, rutted by bullock carts, are empty. In a few hours, the square will be noisy with life: village elders sitting in choice spots under the banyan, pedantic with endless cups of chai; women gossiping on their way to the vegetable market; urchins chasing stray dogs with a reckless wickedness that comes only in childhood.Generations have thus used the old banyan, the village square, the vegetable market—why, even ancestors of the pariah dogs.
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