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A Quarterly Journal
Jeffrey Woodward, Founder & General Editor
Volume 10, Number 3, September 2016

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Kala Ramesh
Pune, Maharashtra, India


Silver Threads

My neighbour for a month now, she is nearly eighty years old. Straight and sprightly, her body belies her age. It is always her eyes that strike me. Lonely, with a faraway look, they seem to talk. I wonder if she was a dancer. On the road a week back I met her face-to-face and tried to strike a conversation. Her maid said she's hard of hearing and generally doesn't talk to strangers.

Our row houses share the side walls with neighbours. I've been hearing soft sobbing every night. Ashamed to admit it, the sound made a lullaby of sorts as I dozed off.

This morning there was a crowd around her gate, spilling over. Cars were parked on both sides of the road. My neighbour had died in her sleep. It was whispered that her only daughter had not visited for twenty-five years.

moonlit branch
silver threads stretch
into the unknown

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