Time should move,” Noni had told her. “Don’t go in for a life where time doesn’t pass, the way I did. That is the single best bit of advice I can give you.
When he died, I went about like a ragged crow telling strangers, My father died, my father died. My indiscretion embarrassed me, but I could not help it. Without my father on his Delhi rooftop, why was I here? Without him there, why should I go back? Without that ache between us, what was I made of?