I like to take photos too.

Photo credit: Charles Verghese
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A River Runs Again: Fire

Grandfather sipped his chai, the smoke from the woodstove transformed by the sunlight into a grey slanted column behind him. His daughter-in-law Seema slapped the bhakri bread into rounds and singed them on the griddle over the fire. Yes, she said, of coursse she would prefer a gas stove. But Grandfather, teacup in hand, balked. Seema demured. It was true. Her husband liked the way bhakri tasted cooked over the wood Seema collected free from the fields, which she lit in the small kitchen with the blackened walls.





























