I was born in a village, where food was luxury and lactation on no demand. Newborns were thrown across the banks and jackals feasted on. Today, this time of the day, I am 40 and affluent. My son expects me to bring surprises for him every day.

Carrying a pile of garbage, I remember the words of my mother once logically said, “My son, I know you are hungry but I am empty handed. If you are not ashamed, I can breastfeed you”.

Still, I can smell the blood on her nipples.