![]() ![]() Where the sores were, there is now pink puckered flesh his limbs are untouched. ![]() He has no fingers, only stubs, since what has been taken can never be given back, but they are clean and sound. A need for comfort.īut I am comforted most when I look at his hands. He nodded, not hesitating, but a little impatient. Are you happy with me? I said to him yesterday - being sure of the answer. Yet I have no fears now: what is done is done, there can be no repining. Puli is with me because I tempted him, out of my desperation I lured him away from his soil to mine. One by one they come out into the early morning sunshine, my son, my daughter, and Puli, the child I clung to who was not mine, and he no longer a child. Then morning comes, the wavering grey turns to gold, there is a stirring within as the sleepers awake, and he softly departs. SOMETIMES at night I think that my husband is with me again, coming gently through the mists, and we are tranquil together. ![]() Work without hope draws nectar in a sieve, And hope without an object cannot live. ![]() No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, except in the case of excerpts by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review. NECTAR IN A SIEVE by Kamala Markandaya This edition copyright 2018 Dead Authors Society. ![]()
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