Now that’s a rangoli, my sisters were used to make, thanks Varsha for this beautiful rangoli.She: (about to finish filling colors) maybe I should be...thankful to both didi (referring to my sisters) I’ve learned from them every time I get chance in festivals I sat with them here to learn this art.Me: oh..! That’s nice, but I haven’t seen you a single time like that??She: how could you? You were in Mumbai busy in studies and even also in festival vacations you didn’t came here, right?Me: yea.. But. ’ You committed fornication? Twelve ‘Our Fathers’ and ten ‘Hail Marys.’ I smoothed a crease in my skirt. Perhaps had the priest’s punishments for me been more like a contrapasso out of Dante, I could’ve felt a bit differently. At least then I’d have known he was listening, that somehow the rules really mattered. Instead, for the past ten years I’d taken to enumerating my sins in silence during the duller stretches of mass—which in itself, I suppose, is probably some sort of blasphemy.Back home. More

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