Jab mane chuchio ko gol gol ghumane lga toh mami ek dam khdi ho gyi ma ghabra gya toh jo unho ne us smya bola ma hairan reh gya. Unhone kha ma toh apn... ssural me bhi tumhe apna dudu pilana chati thee. Mere ko pata tha tum bike ki break bar bar mar rahe the meri breast tab tmare piche lag rahi thee. Ma has padha toh wo bi muskra di. Fir mane time waist na karte hue unhe dakha dekar bed pe leta dya toh unke upar chad kar unke sare kapde utar dye. Jase aap ko phele bi btaya tha ke ma mume chusne. But best of all was a bonfire. That made autumn worthwhile. Perhaps that was why she loved the leaves — they meant the coming of the fire. The leaves would be collected, raked into a big pile and then the treasure hunt began. Anything that could or would burn was added to the pile — a fallen limb or tree was gold, but old fences, broken furniture, one year even an old tumbledown shed. And the higher the pile grew the more excited she became, counting down the days to Burn Night. There was. More

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