Yashoda By Chhaya Mahajan

Within a moment Baisa hugged him. Radho snuggled into her embrace and a wave of compassion filled her mind. His touch brought back memories of so many aromas. Aroma that went beyond collapse or support – it was the aroma of a life of futility and loneliness… the aroma of damp, old clothes kept in a trunk in the dark attic…Baisa who had never experienced the tender feel of a baby’s skin, dragged her mind out of its dark recesses. Her gaze settled on Radho, with the same curiosity with which one gazes at an innocent newborn…