Thank you for the memories:
It is early morning. The first rays of the sun break through my “nacre” pastel
windows. Already the song is blaring through the tiny speakers in the hallway.
I know it is time to get up and go to the courtyard. Lined up and snaking half
a furlong, were all destitute and orphans. With a coconut shell bowl we
awaited the matron to dole out the morning “pez” with a sliver of ambli. The
director of the institute played the same song everyday. We did not know what
it meant. Except that we all sang in unison—Where is your papa and and mama
gone?
The institute was “Provedoria Assitencia Publica. Keep on chirping.
Abhar,
Vojnadik Vojem.
