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Tell me the stories about India. The names you have told me of so many times. Tell me about
being taken by bearers to see the circus, carried high above their heads with the way lit by lanterns. And the woman with her baskets of coloured
glass bangles, and how they would always be broken, eventually.
Tell me about your mother, sad and silent with silver bells on her ankles. Tell me about the nights you would get into bed with your sister when the two of you were sent away. Tell me the stories that were told to you. The brothers who eat their sister after discovering the sweetness of her blood, the reeds that whisper her name. Tell me the stories again. I promise I will remember.'
being taken by bearers to see the circus, carried high above their heads with the way lit by lanterns. And the woman with her baskets of coloured
glass bangles, and how they would always be broken, eventually.
Tell me about your mother, sad and silent with silver bells on her ankles. Tell me about the nights you would get into bed with your sister when the two of you were sent away. Tell me the stories that were told to you. The brothers who eat their sister after discovering the sweetness of her blood, the reeds that whisper her name. Tell me the stories again. I promise I will remember.'