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On the fourteenth of January my aunt in a village outside Thanjavur wakes before the light and sweeps the front step with a straw…
On the evening of Karthika Purnima my grandmother used to bathe by four in the afternoon, an hour earlier than any ordinary day. By…
On the shelf above my writing desk in Kyoto, there is a small wooden box. Inside the box, eight candles in various states of…
My grandmother slept differently in different months, and she made no apology for it. In December she was in bed by eight in the…
In my mother's kitchen there were three large brass containers, lined in a row on the lower shelf of the pantry. One held rice,…
It rained for the first time properly last night. Not the half-hearted showers of early June but the real one, the kind that arrives…
The kitchen window in my apartment faces east. It is not a large window. About sixty centimetres wide and ninety tall, with a single…
By eight in the morning the streets of Sfax are already shimmering. The shutters in our building, painted that pale blue you find all…
The balcony off the kitchen in our Bangalore apartment is small. Just under two metres long, half a metre deep, with a low railing…
My grandmother in Nara always knew, without looking at the calendar, when the equinox was approaching. She would say nothing in particular. She would…
The neighbour upstairs began at dawn. I could hear her sweeping the small balcony with that short coir broom, the kind that scrapes rather…
There is a small wooden bowl on the kitchen counter that I have owned for almost twenty years. It came from a market in…
