She knew as soon as she found the yellow legal pad etched with his erratic hand that it wasn’t something she should share. But, lacking the abiding sense of self-preservation that develops only around the age of 13 or so, she settled in the garage, sifting through the boxes her father was filling—boxes he would carry off in his silver Camry to a place unknown, a place she didn’t really want to know, either.

(more…)

(Inspired by Eric Weiner’s article in Sunday’s New York Times Magazine.)

When my husband and I moved in together, we never discussed having a servant. It was just understood, somehow, that I was an American, perpetually uncomfortable in India, particularly when it came to patterns of social behavior I had no context for, and thus we would go without.

But Amma showed up, and she would not leave. (more…)