What To Keep and What To Throw, When Nothing is Normal?

Arun inhales deeply, contorts his body in a suryaasan, and exhales his breath out in a rush. Memories of his father crowd into his brain like pictures on a screen.

A week ago came the earth-shattering phone call from Kakaji the manservant who had lived with his Dad for thirty years. More family than caretaker—Kakaji was lank and shriveled of limb, grizzled of hair with a crooked eagle beak, and a Hitler-like mustache, but dependable and always-present.

The funeral took place in 24 hours. “They don’t hold the body here for more than 48 hours, Arun beta,” Kakaji had croaked.