"Putha, Get ready!" my mother tells me "We are going to your grandparents place soon". She then grabs my three year old younger brother by hand and rushes inside the house probably to get him ready first. The baby must be sleeping inside the house; there is no crying for sometimes now.
I like to play with my younger brother in the front yard full of sand and pebbles under the tall Rambutan tree that never bears any fruit. Sometimes we get into fights – after all I am just thirteen months older than him - and my mother does not like that at all. The baby is just a baby turning two in a few months time. He too can join us when he grows a bit more.
My brother comes out dressed up. My mother calls me again from the well in the backyard. I can see she is pulling water out and filling a tub for my wash.
My mother calls me again.