INTERLUDE. Monsoon musings.

I woke up to a gloomy morning with the sky pouring tons of water due to a depression in the Bay .There was no sun in sight and I was trying to cheer myself with a hot cup of coffee when I heard a rustle at the front door and on peeping out from my kitchen saw the milkman dripping with water drop the milk sachets into the bag stringed on the front grill and said 'Amma' indicating that he had delivered the milk and sped away.

At this my spirit lifted.Both my sons are not here to call me .But strangers like the milk man, the flower girl and paper boy who are imbued with our ancient culture that venerates a older woman as a mother and address her as naturally as they would their own,are around and that lifted my drooping spirits.

A man however old he may be is never called 'Appa' . He is always addressed as' Sir'.He is Appa only to his children whereas a woman in India on reaching middle age becomes the universal mother .This is our culture .How soothing it is to me now!