She was standing at the doorstep, all in white. The young widow looked magnetic in her plain white sari with a white blouse. She made a roll of her long hair and stared at my dad with her sharp eyes.
“You can join your duty from tomorrow morning. The storeroom is big enough for placing your bed,” Dad said to her. He found her efficient to keep as a cook cum overall house help. After Mom’s death, it was Dad who took all household decisions.
“By the way, what is your name?” Dad asked her.
“Yashoda Namusudra,” she replied at once.