“I must have been 7 or 8. I must have made a demand for money or a toy with Mother. I remember she put me on her lap, wrapped me around her shoulders and said, ‘Son, I am sorry. You were only one when your father left us to be with the Gods. And your widowed Mother has nothing to give you. But please understand I love you more than I love my whole being. Please forgive me, son, that I am not able to give you the joy you deserve.’ I remember tears dripping down her face like rain onto my forehead. I was fatherless but I had enough maturity to understand Mother’s hurt. I had coaxed her, ‘Do not worry mother, I was just jokingly making demands with you, for all I need is you. I do not need money or any lifeless toy.’ It had not worked. Mother, seeing my innocence, had cried even harder. When I turned 10, a neighbour interrupted my playtime and ushered me home. I saw mom lie lifeless in the porch. I knew she had died. She had died due to mourning, first my father and then the untimely death of one of my sisters. At the age of 10, I had become an orphan. Soon after, I quit school to meet the demands of the fields. And at 12, in a hope to find a better life, I ran away from home.”