Jasmine - The Boy Who Built Himself
The Boy Who Built Himself The World Woven of Jasmine The morning sun over Chunnakam did not rise so much as it unfurled, like a golden flower opening its petals over the dusty roads and the palm-fringed horizon. It painted the small railway station in soft amber, glinted off the tin roofs of the tea shops, and crept into the small bedroom where Abdullah lay dreaming. He was twelve years old, though in the way of small towns where everyone tracks everyone else's children, he belonged to everyone. He was the son of Fareeda, the widow who sewed clothes in the front room of their small house, and the late Rauf, who had been a schoolteacher and had left behind nothing but debts and a single shelf of books. But Abdullah was also the boy who helped old Mrs. Thangaraj carry her vegetable basket from the market every Friday. He was the boy who could recite the entire lyrics of a Hindi film song after hearing it once, complete with gestures that made the tea shop uncles laugh until their b...