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The other thing I want to tell you
about my grandmother is how un-
interested she was in cooking and
how powerless she felt finally
about all that chastity. She wanted
life, but the food on her table
was always the same. She told of
Sundays past, the laughing season,
she, a wife of promise, lost.
As the magistrate’s bride 
in a small coastal town, she took
a turn away from the feast,
to end up hungry and alone.
At the end, she found
her way to glory: she said
water was too sweet,
chocolate too spicy, it brought
tears to her eyes, nothing was right,
not salt, not bread, nothing
helped, so she stopped food. She
stopped.
Thayil, Jeet. “The Other Thing,” English, Ratapallax Press, Penguin Random House India, 2003, p. 51.
Published with permission from Penguin Random House India.

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