My favorite things were three—flowers, green leaves turned yellow by autumn, and travelling. Once, I saw a dead man in front of my school, somehow I found it interesting. I squatted on the floor playing with his chest and face till people saw us and began to shout. I didn’t cry or shudder.

One man mum brought to see me told mom I was emotionally detached from things like death, love, anger, hate. Well, I didn’t care. I didn’t understand.

I was made to see really funny movies where people were shot in the head, or where people cried. I was made to look at really gory stuffs for reasons best known to mum and the man.

Mum never allowed me see a scene in the movie where there was a dead person after all that weird phase had passed.

Another thing I loved? Holidays. Mum always obliged. For as long as she could. My first holiday was in Paris. I was eight, mother took me, and my little brother.

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