His legs started trembling with fatigue, yet he gave a
courageous nod and silently headed towards Amma’s shadow, only way he knew
about walking.
“But Baba’s bicycle?” he whispered with half-shut eyes.
“He is… Your Baba might be riding horses somewhere in heaven.”
She unfurled the cloth on her skinny shoulders, the cloth she
often used as a crown to support those heavy head-pans of cement at
construction sites.
