Inseparable they had been as children. Close as two seeds in a cardamom pod,…..he was the one she unfailingly depended upon,to remove the thorns from her soles,to set the world right again……
Another Indian author? I asked my friend. I have been reading only them lately.(I’m scared that my love for Ken Follett will diminish). Reva said OK the next time it’ll be a different one.
As I read, I took flight with the flock of herons to herald a new beginning. Devi , Devanna. Inseparable they are from my heart now. A tale of love and hateful love! A heart that’s tucked away into an abyss of guilt. Emotions so fierce and undying, yet murdered like the tiger by the tiger killer. ‘Nari Malai’the hills that roar with all that’s lying in its belly. But finally perfumes the wind like the jungle orchid.
Tiger hills does complete justice to the spoken and unspoken emotions in the depths of darkness, replete with similes that bring Coorg alive. A book that’ll remain dear to me. Devi leads my way forward to heal the lips of my wounds,slowly together.