The nights were hot and sweaty, coupled with the long power outages are the constant puttering of generators in our street, it was a miracle of we got more than 3-4 hours of sleep. We spent long humid nights fanning ourselves to sleep with hand made fans or newspapers.
We had one fan made by our mother who had fashioned it by attaching buntings on an old lid. We lost it and forgot all about it.
On one such humid night at around 2 am, someone was banging on our door. It was the little boy across the street. “Excuse me uncle,” he “I want to ask why the lady who comes every night to fan me to sleep has not come tonight?”
“Sorry son,” I replied, “no lady lives here.”
“Yes she does,” argued the little boy,”She told me herself when she fanned me the first time. She also told me that she made this fan herself.”
He was holding a battered old lid with buntings attached on the sides. My mother has beeb dead for five years.