#Brunchbookchallenge

The name of the book itself is testament to that ambiguity. “The cyclical structure of the poem, both in form and content meant that it could really not be titled anything other!” confirms Namrita.

Namrita has a journal from when she was five years old, full of little poems an d longer sketches, that serves as a reminder that she was certainly writing fluently at that age. Since Noah is the same age, does she see a lot of herself in her daughter? “Like most mothers and daughters, I imagin e, we are both very alike an d very unalike! it’s a dynamic relationship in that she is growing up and into her own so fast, so that on e perfectly compatible day can be followed by another that is hairraising,” comes the answer.

Now that Noah has started school, will we see more books from Namrita? The reply is as encouraging as it is daunting. “I am conceptualising a photo-prose book, pursuing oil-painting again, an d starting a Master’s degree in art history,” she says.

READY TO READ

The poem (excerpts seen below) explores what the world looks like through the eyes of Namrita's five-year-old daughter

The memory itself dates back to when I was about seven, before we moved overseas, living in Bombay as it was still called then. My family had a small seaside cottage in Madh Island which was completely wild and empty back then, and at a point we moved to live out there, commuting to school in Juhu daily on the fishermen’s ferry. I have this visceral memory of travelling back home one afternoon. We were on the municipal bus from the dock, my siblings and I in our grey school uniforms, the sunlight dappling through the trees fragmented by a perfectly salty breeze. I remember looking across the bus to where a local woman in a saree was sitting, and noticed her nursing a small baby under her

Just like that on a moving bus. I was transfixed. It was such an ordinary yet extraordinary moment for me, as I had never witnessed this beautiful and simple fact of life before. Somehow it remains.