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We called them GRUB DAYS.

They were Tuesday , Thursday and Saturday, I think.

But after Mummy disappeared, letter-writing day became impossible.
I've been told the matrons asked me to write a "final" letter to Mummy. I have a vague memory of wanting to protestthat she was still alive, and yet not doing so, for fear they'd think I was mad. Also, what was the point? Mummy would read the letter when she came out of hiding, so it wouldn't be a total waste of effort.

Mummy bought it for you. Shortly before,....
You mean in Paris.
It was an Xbox. I was pleased I loved video games.
That's the story, anyway.. It's appeared in many accounts of my life, as gospel, and I have no idea if it's true. Pa said mummy hurt her head, but perhaps I was the one with brain damage? As a defence mechanism, most likely, my memory was no longer recording things qute as it once did.

It's OK, I reassured myself, it's OK. There aren't any cameras around.
Besides, I wasn't crying because I believed my mother was in that hole.Or in that coffin. I promised myself I'd never believe that, no matter what anyone said.
No, I was crying at the mere idea.
It would just be so unbearably tragic. I thought, if it was actually true.

It was reported that Mummy's hands were folded across her chest and between them was placed a photo of me and Willy, possibly the only two men who ever truly loved her. Certainly the two who loved her most. For all eternity we'd be smiling at her in the darkness, and maybe it was this image, as the flag came off and the coffin descended to the bottom of the whole, that finally broke me.

Besides, I wasn't crying because I believed my mother was in that hole. Or that coffin, I promised myself I'd never believe that, no matter what anyone said.

No, I was crying at the mere idea.

It could be so unbearably tragic, I thought, if it was actually true.

I wanted to cry, and I'd tried to, because Mummy's life had been so sad that she'd felt the need to disappear, to invent this massive charade. But I couldn't squeeze out one drop. Maybe, I'd learnt too well, absorbed too deeply, the ethics of the family, that crying wasn't an option- ever.

She's gone.
No, she's hiding.
She's dead.
No, she's playing dead.

We pulled over, stepped out. I could see nothing but a matrix of coloured dots. Flowers. And more flowers. I could hear nothing but a rhythmic clicking from across the road. The press. I reached for my father's hand., for comfort, then cursed myself, because thst gesture set off an explosion of clicks.

I'd given them exactly what they wanted. Emotion. Drama. Pain.

They fired and fired and fired.

Pa didn't hug me.He wasn't great at showing emotions under normal circumstances, how could he be expected to show them in such a crisis? But his hand did fall once more on my knee and he said: It's going to be OK.

That was quite a lot for him. Fatherlt, hopeful, kind. And so very untrue.

Did he mention papparazi? Did he say she'd been chased? I don't think so. I can't swear to it, but probably not. The paps were such a problem for mummy, for everyone, it didn't need to be said.
I thought again: Injured....but she's OK. She's been taken to hospital, they'll fix her head, and we'll go and see her. Today. Tonight at the latest.
They tried, darling boy. I'm afraid she didn't make it.

What is it, Pa?
He sat down on the edge of the bed. He put a hand on my knee. Darling boy, Mummy's been in a car crash.
I remember thinking. Crash....OK. But she's all right? Yes?

My distant kin. My kindred spirit, some would claim. If nothing else, my namesake. Born September 15, 1984. I was christened Henry Charles Albert David of Wales.
But from Day One everyone called me Harry.

Why should my memory organize experiences like this? Is it genetic?Trauma? Some Frankenstein-esque combination of the two? Is it my inner soldier, assessing every place as a potential battlefield? Is it my innate homebody nature, rebelling against a forced nomadic existence? Is it some base apprehension that the world is essentially the maze, and you should never be caught in a maze without a map?

THERE WERE ALWAYS STORIES.
People would whisper now and then about folks who hadn't fared well at Balmoral. The long-ago Queen, for instance. Mad with grief, she'd locked herself inside Balmoral castle and vowed never to come out. And the very proper former ; he'd called the place "surreal" and "utterly freaky".

THERE WERE ALWAYS STORIES.
People would whisper now and then about folks who hadn't fared well at Balmoral. The long-ago queen, for instance. Mad with grief, she'd locked herself

Just then, the Acharya Dharmaghosa, purifying the earth by Dharma' by his wandering as a sadhu, approached the merchant. Dhana hastily rose and with folded hands praised the Acharya shining like the sun with the brightness of his penance. Questioned by Dhana in regard to the reason of his coming, the Acharya explained, " I wish to go to Vasantpura with your caravan."

Just then, the Acharya Dharmaghosa, purifying the earth by Dharma' by his wandering as a sadhu, approached the merchant. Dhana hastily rose and with folded hands praised the Acharya shining like the sun with the brightness of his penance. Questioned by Dhana in regard to the reason of his coming, the Acharya explained, " I wish to go to Vasantpura with your caravan."

Just then, the Acharya Dharmaghosa, purifying the earth by Dharma' by his wandering as a sadhu, approached the merchant. Dhana hastily rose and with folded hands praised the Acharya shining like the sun with the brightness of his penance. Questioned by Dhana in regard to the reason of his coming, the Acharya explained, " I wish to go to Vasantpura with your caravan."

Then the merchant Dhana had a drum beaten, and a proclamation made to the people theoughout the city/ The merchant nDhana is going to Vasantapura, Whoever wishes to go, may go with him. He will give merchandise to those without it, conveyances to those who have no coneyances, companions to the friendless, and provisions to those lacking in provisions.

Nalanda University, which enjoyed international renown when Oxford and Cambridge were not even gleams in their founders' eyes, employed 2,000 teachers and housed 10,000 students in a remarkable campus that featured a library nine storeys tall.

It is also pertinent to nail the canard that whatever the deficiencies of the Company, its rule was no worse than the supposedly rapacious princes whom the British supplanted. This is simply false.

Sita watched Shurpanakha , hawk -eyed, as the lady continued to stare at her husband.

The loud sounds of the waves crashing against hard rocks brought Jatayu back from the painful memory.

His body was shaking. Tears pouring from his eyes. He held his hands together in supplication, his head bowed. He gathered the courage to look across the straits at Mumba Devi. At the hills of Walkeshwar.

"Forgive me, King Indran....Forgive me,,,,"

But there was no respite from the guilt.

"Cowards," said Laxman, " There is no Kshatriyahood in fighting that way,"
" Exactly," said Jatayu," In fact, even in the rare case that a bull survives that competition, it is never brought back into the arena again because it would have learnt to fight. And that would tilt the scales in its favour instead of the bull-fighter. So, they always bring in a new, inexperienced bull"

The Uttarayan marked the beginning of the northward movement of the sun across the horizon.This day marked the farthest that the nurturer of the world, the sun, moved away from from those in the northern hemisphere. It would now begin its six -month journey back to the north. It was believed to be that part of the year which marked nature's renewal.

The Uttarayan marked the beginning of the northward movement of the sun across the horizon.This day marked the farthest that the nurturer of the world, the sun, moved away from from those in the northern hemisphere. It would now begin its six -month journey back to the north. It was believed to be that part of the year which marked nature's renewal.

"Ram is special in so many ways.But his strength, his obsession with the laws, can also be his weakness. Help him find balance. Then, both of you will be the partners that India need."

"Ram is special in so many ways.But his strength, his obsession with the laws, can also be his weakness. Help him find balance. Then, both of you will be the partners that India need."

It was going to be a tough fourteen years. The forests could be survived only if you were sturdy and hard. Not if you were delicate and urbane.