‘Paat Kaapur’or logote, maahi aaie khundile, moi he Tejimola…’ ‘What are you singing, Aaita?’ Moloya asked her grandmother who was folding her sarees in muslin for safekeeping. ‘Don't tell me you don't know the story of Tejimola. Didn't your Deuta, my son ever tell it to you?’ asked the elegant lady, her wide eyes miffed at this oversight by her NRI son. ‘No Aaita, we are only Assamese in name. Deuta was always busy at the hospital. Maa tried but being from UP, she could only do so much. Since you all were estranged, we never got to hear...