When the Pyre Burnt All Night
I do not have a native place. A village. A place in the country if you may. Some old house amidst lush fields and a well nearby. I have been born in this city. And I have lived here since then. Just like my Father and his Father. We don't know much about my Grandfather's father. So when someone asks me where my native place is, I simply say Bombay. However, if you ride down on the NH-17 towards the Taluka of Mangaon, and turn left and ride another few miles, you would come across a quaint place called Kadapa. And here on a small elevation lies a temple. This temple houses the shrine of Kadapkarin Devi. Or simply Devi as she is known in our family. As a child, going to Devi was an adventure in itself. My folks would offer our prayers and return the same day or at times stay over. On one such trip, when I was 10, three families descended upon the temple. Most of us kids decided to explore the small hillock that rose behind the temple. There was a winding road going up to the v...