Renita D'Silva

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She liked the way a ray of mild autumn sun infiltrating the thick cluster of trees caught a reddish orange leaf swirling in the wind and transformed it golden yellow. She liked that it wasn’t a leaf she recognised, that she could name or associate with her past

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What wouldn’t my people give for a few bites of the biryani she ordered me to throw away yesterday because she said it smelt?

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Where are the coconut trees bowing allegiance to the wind, the wide open spaces, the verdant green fields?

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You put cow dung on my face?’ ‘Every day religiously until you were three. Why else do you think your skin is so clear?

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I watched the rows and rows of chappals left by devotees outside the Hindu temple and wondered if the homeless boys who sometimes steal our chickens ever steal them, and if they do, are they punished, and if so by whom?