<blockquote>For as long as I can remember, Mythili has said she was going to leave. Even when we were children, she would tell Kumar and me that she was leaving the next day and we would never see her again. I would shake her hand and wish her all the best in her future endeavours while Kumar would cry, refusing to stop until she promised not to go. This time, Mythili didn’t say anything. She just packed her clothes in a big shopper bag and got Rs. 1200/- from our grandmother, though Kumar thought she had probably stolen it from the servants.
“But where are you going?” I asked.
“I’m leaving,” said Mythili.
“How?” said Kumar.
“I don’t know,” said Mythili. “But I’m leaving.”</blockquote>
