Mumbai Mornings 

Her eyes said good morning as her hand caressed my hair, making sure I was with her in the flesh and not just a voice on the phone. Often, I wouldn’t let her turn the light on or even part the curtains at that sacred hour. Those Mumbai mornings were exclusively ours.

At first, we simply sipped our tea and basked in the silence. Mum seldom asked me about my life in New Jersey. I think not asking allowed her to imagine I dwelled in a sort of paradise where no one ever aged or wept or did the dishes. Then, usually on my second cup, I invoked a name or addressed her past, and slowly she opened her heart.

Coming soon to a bookstore near you ….

If you liked The Shenanigans of Time

you will love Mumbai Mornings

by P.A. Chawla