She went to the kitchen, and came back soon with a tray of tea. She put the tray on the table and she sat down beside me on the sofa. She had made tea...both for herself and me. ‘How did you manage so quickly?’ I asked her. She smiled. ‘I had already prepared it. Thanks for the sweets. Aunty is surely hell of a cook. I have to take lessons from her before we settle down’ she told me. She wore a white long skirt and a low-necked sleeveless short kamiz and had thrown a red shawl around her. I was only ten, I didn’t see where was the problem, but I understood it was taboo.You can imagine how bizarre was to become an adult and wondering how it would be to talk with a girl.I don’t think mother planned that, but not seeing girls made me want to see one, at first because I was curious, and then because deep inside my hormones started to boil.The second (!) time I asked mother about women, she sighed, whispering that we, men, only think about that. She then added that at the end of high. More

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