I had just finished my work at Churchgate in Mumbai and was proceeding towards Dhobi Talao, to catch a bus to my home town Goa. I had just arrived the previous day and since wasn't expecting to stay more than a day; I had only brought a small handbag with minimum numbers of clothes. I was carrying my documents in a folder which were kept in a plastic carry bag, which I was carrying in my left hand. As I was walking, a gentleman approached me from behind, and as he was overtaking me, asked in Goan local language, whether I was on my way back to Goa. I nodded in agreement. But I was really stunned, not only because I had not met or seen this man before, but also because how he could guess that I was on my way to catch a bus to Goa, which was still quite a distance away. Moreover, he also spoke to me in Konkani. Only later when I embarked the bus and was parking my luggage, did I glance at my carry bag, which read conspicuously, in bold letters – Rajani Cloth Merchant, Vasco da Gama, Goa. 

I was then studying in fourth standard of primary school. In one of our English class, we were given home work, which included making a sentence from the phrase ‘blown out of proportion’, which meant exaggerated. The following day, each of us was made to read out our exercise aloud. Even though I have forgotten what my sentence was, the one I still cannot forget was, “when my aunt was pregnant, her belly was blown out of proportion”.