In Memphis I cooked for what I had lost. It happened this way. After a summer at camp, I moved to Memphis to attend graduate school. I lived off campus, in a building unofficially called Curry Hall because of the large numbers of Indian students rooming there. I spent most days and nights in the sculpture studio. Memphis was very different from Mount Holyoke. For one thing, I had a lot more Indian friends in Memphis, and they threw great parties. We would gather in someone’s house on a Friday night, indulge in a potluck dinner, and dance until the wee hours. SOUTHERNERS FASCINATED ME. Quick of laugh and sly of wit, their conversation masked more than it revealed. They were pleasant and easygoing but had a certain reserve that I couldn’t penetrate, which only piqued my curiosity about them. In the Northeast I got invited to dozens of homes. In the South I could barely manage two. When I did visit homes, I found gracious men and women with a droll sense of humor and a talent for flirtatious repartee.
