"Look there!" pointed Mrs. Choudhry, "that's what crazy looks like"
"What do you mean?" I asked craning my neck over the enormous gates of her villa.
"He came to me six months ago to learn. Just like you but" she said taking a deep breath.
"He is crazy that's what."
"But I'm not crazy" I protested, "I want to learn"
She cut across me with her sharp voice and the temper of Bengali women, "How do I know you are not crazy?"
"A jobless bookworm, clumsy and alone, that is all that I know" she snapped.