That afternoon, evening, and night till the early hours all I did was sit around in the same dirty dhoti barefoot phoning, texting and then when it was too late to call to email, which I abhor so I sent Sally’s message, sorry it also praises me and this was not the intention, heaven forfend, and now when I write this I think of all the people I know who met Grace and might like to hear about the samskar or rites of passage as practiced by the great mass of people in Tamil Nadu with variations all throughout India, so I took photographs. She died at almost one p.m, it was the New Moon and a Friday, all good signs, we should bury her today, Saturday is bad, Shani, Saturn, says Radhika. Others spoke of keeping her in a fridge, a box like Lenin’s I saw one recently with advertizing painted on the Lucite; no thanks, she’ll be ok overnight won’t she? Sure. We’ll get by Shani, anyway his vehicle is a crow, good juju, we take her down to the farm tomorrow. There was a wonderful spot overlooking the valley she would adore, sorry too she couldn’t live down there …
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