“When papa left for Chandigarh there was no internet. There were no phones. We lost him for some time. There was no money coming in. We were not working then. I have seen mother cry. Maybe she longed for papa. Maybe she cried seeing her sons lose weight. Or maybe the store did not give her any credit. Those were difficult days, I remember in my heart. Mother taught me how to mix and mold clay to make pottery. Since I am a fast learner, I quickly started making all kinds of pottery. I would pack the pottery and take it to the market nearby. With the money I made, we somehow got by. Eventually, papa came back and things got easier not because he brought home a lot of money but because we found the support we were seeking. Even today, I sit by my mother’s side and work until the market opens. This is my religion. This is what our ancestors did. We are the Kumales. This is not the only thing I do. I also go to college and I am learning computer programming. I hope to have a decent job one day and take my mother to different worlds she has not seen. She might want to go on pilgrimage and I will arrange that for her. But whatever I become I will never stop molding clay. The work is difficult, the pay little but it is my religion. It is what kept us alive when papa was in Chandigarh.