For a small child, there is little or no boundary between the self and another.
Father and mother were both silent figures. I don't remember hearing them talking. Father had a gentle smile whenever he looked at me. Mother was brooding and gloomy. I felt a sadness come over me when I looked at her moving about. But she couldn't have been sad, for she had energy for a lot of hard work. She cooked nice meals and insisted on teaching me slokas.
Mother says aunt K was there with us all that time-but I don't remember her as part of those days. Father would take me for evening walks after he came back from office. I remember standing in front of a zoo cage- it must have been the owl.
Hey owl? Ugh ah..
You ok? Ugh ah..
Headache on knee? Ugh ah...
Fever in tummy? Ugh ah...
Wanna peanut? HMMM!
Father sang for me. He still entertains small children pretty much the same way.
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