Mother's voice was thin and weak. But her sentences were purposeful and unbroken. She had not gotten out of bed for a few days because of low and weakening fever, and right now her fever was running high.
"Mother I know there is something I can do. You mentioned those flowers that grow near the Gulmohar Patch. I can get them for you."
"But you are only nine, bhayya. I cannot send you off all alone to that faraway part of the jungle all by yourself. It has been raining for last three days."
"Mother I know there is something I can do. You mentioned those flowers that grow near the Gulmohar Patch. I can get them for you."
"But you are only nine, bhayya. I cannot send you off all alone to that faraway part of the jungle all by yourself. It has been raining for last three days."
She had made up her mind. Almost. It's a difficult choice between leaving her mother alone for one and a half days to get the flowers that will almost surely cure her and being near her.
"Mother," she held her hand, warmer than usual and softer than usual, in a dry sort of way, "I will be back before sunset tomorrow. I promise." She was feeling full of purpose and fear. Fear was good.
"Ma can you tell me the markers just once again?"
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