I am painting my love to you on the backdrop of 1959 to 1965 but I will be sketching only a single trait you can feel like. If you give a command to Google earth and your system can bring a bird's eye view of village mirzapur. My Dad house has a huge entrance supported by a concrete door frame the wooden door or say gate is no more visible and just enter the house take 25 steps and look towards your right. It was the location where a hand pump stood tall to the happening days of my dad. I remember dad never fetched water for me he always wanted me to be self reliant . I was too small when I learnt how to pull the pump just by observing neither mom nor dad but some peoples employed by dad or some persons who happened to take water from his pump as hand pump was a luxury at that time to speak like. I remember there used to be a small gathering practically all the time s of reckoning to my small nerves.
I used to take a small iron bucket fill it with water and take a glass it was bronze I remember and have a wash /bath with no under wear of any sort. I remember it was tough time but sooner or later I learned how to do the job.
I have cleansed my bathroom I thought Kiran will say uncle is bullshit psychiatric medicine addicted chap and hardly bothers for keeping the things intact. I have done a quick wash to the bathroom. Kiran is not well he just telephoned me and I think bombay is not that far away too, may an air plane can bring you here.
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