أزبــكيـة

The God Of Small Things Arundhati Roy For Mary Roy who grew me up. Who taught me to say 'excuse me' before interrupting her in Public. Who loved me enough to let me go. For LKC, who, like me, survived. Never again will a single story be told as though it's the only one - John Begoer In those early amorphous years when memory had only just begun, when life was full of Beginnings and no Ends, and everything was For Ever. Her tears made everything that had so far seemed unreal, real. It was always there. Like a fruit in season. Every season. As permanent as a government job. Neglect seemed to have resulted in an accidental release of the spirit.  Though you couldn't see the River from the house any more, like a seashell always has a sea-sense,  the Ayemebem house still has a river-sense. A rushing, rolling, fishswimming sense.  They used to make pickles, squashes, Curry powders and canned pineapples. And Banana Jam (illega...