1 / A memento of my grandfather

When my grandfather sold his tobacco business in East Africa, it made him a very wealthy man. And he came to Pondicherry with his eleven children, gave nearly all his money to the Ashram, and in return they promised they would look after his family for ever. This is the house he lived in. This is our house.

My elderly aunts now live here. My eldest aunt, indeed the eldest of all the siblings, lived here until she was forced into permanent exile by a broken hip, lying on a bed in the Ashram hospital on the oceanfront until she finally passed away, almost 89 years old. The house is almost a prison for my aunts who still live there, and who knows how long the ashram will allow us to keep it, now that new management has replaced the dead and forgotten leaders.