The front porch at Parathody, our ancestral house in Shoranur, Palakkad. I remember reading an entire bunch of India Today magazines leaning against the closest pillar as a kid, fingers sticky from overdosing on elayada. The last time I went we only stopped for a few hours, eating idlis and halwa in the smoky kitchen with Leela cheriyamma and Apuppa. They're both dead now. Goshama's the only one left here, the last guardian of Parathody, a rickety hollow birdlike man on the better side of sixty. And Maloo of course, Maloo the household help.

I have no idea if I will ever manage to go back.