7:45am. Me, sitting alone at a formal dining room table eating uttappam. The chairs have high straight backs, made of dark wood. There’s a large vase of fake roses in the middle of the table. The uttappam is warm and slightly greasy. It goes nicely with pickle. Out on the verandah P. is reading the “Lifestyles” section of Saakshi newspaper. From the master bedroom come the sounds of a cricket match. I can only assume that R. is in there, eating his uttapam and watching highlights. Everyone is very alone.
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