There's a longing in me, for being with him..just two more hours, but I am restless, though I still have to make rasam, get pretty..just thinking of being with him. Knowing that my time will soon be cluttered with many demands makes it keener. Sometimes I call just to hear his voice, even when I can't talk, like today when I've lost my voice. I tell my niece, it was the deep, deep voice which called me long-distance often that seduced me with its warmth, made me melt in the autorickshaw in which I picked him up from the railway station. Like he was already mine, and I dreaded his going back though he had just come.