He’s ahead of me on the path next to his house, waddling furiously on his tricycle. His legs don’t have the strength to pedal yet. The bike is small enough that his legs gets stuck once in a while between the wheels. He stops and looks back to see if I am still following him. “Come Abhi mama” he coos. These words are sweet to my ears. I immediately go to him, ready to do his bidding. He looks at his stuck foot and I free it. He shakes his little legs and starts forward again. At every intersection he asks me which path he should take. I reply to him in Tamil. It delights me when he understands.

What does the little one like to do?
He likes to watch squirrels. “kkurruvee..” he says pointing at sparrows. “kutti palli” he admonishes the lizards.

What does the little one like to do?
He likes his scooter and his tricycle. He likes to go around the complex racing with his parents or his mama.

What does the little one like to do?
He likes to be carried around, and he always has an obliging adult to do that. Who can deny him?