Something was ominous about the way the doorbell rang. Not that the one who pressed it was bringing bad luck, but the other side seemed menacing for the one who waited at the door.
The arrival of a new member didn’t stir up the residents of the Closet. After all, every few days their population increased as one member (and sometimes even more than one) was added from the outside.
Today, as I hail a rickshaw and as it slowly paddles across an alley and then flits out onto a busy road, my mother's word echoes along with my little silver jhumkas in the air. And thus starts my game.