NOBODY LIGHTS A CANDLE Anjali Deshpande 28 By the time Pushpa made the morning tea he had got up. Having dressed Varun for school she said, “Come back immediately after dropping him. Need to talk.” Pushpa rarely spoke in the room downstairs unless there were guests. Her pots and pans spoke and they said a lot of things. The tawa getting off the stove, the pressure cooker letting off steam, spoons stirring inside pots, water being poured into jugs, every utensil spoke of the mood of bahuji. Today the kitchen implements were silent. Pushpa’s words too were formal, official. Brief.