word count: 100
By Neel Anil Panicker
Some people are a closed door__the one that comes securely fastened in adamantine steel chains.
Aunt Anjali was one such character.
Far from talking about her, it was taboo to even take her name.
I remember an incident from childhood when everyone including our extended clan swarmed around grandmother’s bed.
Someone had inserted cotton balls into her nose.
I nudged Mamma inquiring about the woman in white at the corner.
“Why don’t you ask Papa?”
I had never heard her speak in that tone.
That was the day a ten year old learned that certain questions come laden with answers.