A meet with my Great Grandmother
The corridor was long, stretched infinitely on either side. The ceiling, the floor, and the walls were painted bright white except for the red doors on the walls, resembling the corridor of a hotel room. I knocked on the door, whose nameplate read ‘Debaki Rani Acharya’. My heart filled with nervousness and excitement. A woman in her late twenties opened the door. She greeted me with a smile and asked me to come in. My presumptions of the size of the room diminished as I stepped in. Like magic, the scenery completely changed. I was standing in front of a cottage. Everything appeared familiar as I looked around. It was my village, just not the way I remembered it. The house was the predecessor of the one I grew up in. A few mango plants, each not more than a man’s height, were planted near the fences. My earliest memory remembers them, fully grown, seventy-eighty years in the future. In the summers, my sister and I used to be woken up early by grandfather. We would go to the g