the thing about visiting doctors is that you feel obliged to be ill. you begin to invent ailments to avoid disappointing them, making sure that you give them symptoms that they can cure. at the homeopaths yesterday, i found myself waxing eloquent about my allergies and exaggerating stomach problems once i found out that he was not really interested in my backache.
incessantly asking rote questions about bringing peace to the kashmir valley to the women of the area, hansa and kavita got repetitive stock answers about the men who vanished, about desperate poverty, about abuse and humiliation. the women sat in the shadows at the edges of rooms confident in the gaze of a camera that they took for granted as children peeked in curiously through windows. they delivered stores told and retold till we get to the point of being inured to the suffering. unfortunately. more disturbing and moving was the casual shrug of shoulders or the ironical laugh of girls in a sewing class who have come to terms with the abnormality of living life under siege.
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