It's way past my usual sleeping time but it seems my eyes are out to outwit the owls in the nearby roof, my eyes are wide open as if awaiting for something to happen. From somewhere afar I hear the jackals crying, there is an eerie silence in my room and I'm all alone. It was a similar kind of night that took my Grandma away from me. My grandma, I'll always remember her as a lady who lived in full dignity till the last breath. She was the kindest soul I've ever seen in my life.Every evening the two of us would sit outside on the verandah and I would put my head on her lap and ask her to tell me a story. Her grace filled words would tumble down from her lips, bringing the characters of her story alive. I saw monsters, crossed mountains and hills, drank water from the clear stream, sang on tree tops, found myself in the land of fantasy night after night.
But that night I knew from the way the dogs cried outside that it was ominous. I sat silently holding her hand. I knew she understood that I was waiting for another one of her stories, the world where the two of us traveled to every evening, she parted her lips slightly, a low moan came out. Then she closed her eyes and never opened them again.
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