Our car moved through the morning mist. I adjusted the window glasses to feel the new year chill. Women rushed home along the road holding milk bottles in their hands. Most of them covered their heads with gamchhas to prevent another cold. I thought about the families welcoming another year with a cup of tea.
“We have the last remains with us”, brother told.
Prasanna vadanam dyayayet
Sarva vikhnopa santhayet..”, he recited and gave us a hand full of Aerva , our local balippoovu and black gingelly. We put them thrice into the pot while repeating what he told. “Are the remains in the pot laughing at me?”. I looked into the pot. He always ridiculed all these.
We waked towards the east and placed the banana leaf at a distance and clapped for the crows. Two came. My sister looked me and gave a weak smile.