ON JANUARY 3, 2016 BY VIDYA CHATHOTHIN THE HUMAN MIND
They called him Sanju. His picture stared at me from the front page of the newspaper. Tall, dark-complexioned and strikingly handsome. But his eyes held a cold blooded stare that made me distinctly uncomfortable.
The Sanju in my memory is different. I remember him from his childhood. A child with sparkling eyes. He was a chubby baby, inquisitive and restless. I remember the aunts rocking his cradle, humming lullabies and putting him to sleep. He would kick his legs frantically the moment they stopped humming.