75. The Namesake by Jhumpha Lahiri
"They walked along the water to the left, heading toward the lighthouse, past rusted boat frames, fish spines as thick as pipes attached to yellow skulls, a dead gull whose feathery white breast was freshly stained with blood. ... Finally they stood by the lighthouse, exhausted, surrounded by water on three sides, pale green in the harbor, azure behind."
Then his father realized they had forgotten to bring along the camera. They started walking back, and Ashoke asked him, "Will you remember this day, Gogol?" Gogol replied, "How long do I have to remember it?" His father laughed and said, "Try to remember it always. ... Remember that you and I made this journey, that we went together to a place where there was nowhere left to go."
"They walked along the water to the left, heading toward the lighthouse, past rusted boat frames, fish spines as thick as pipes attached to yellow skulls, a dead gull whose feathery white breast was freshly stained with blood. ... Finally they stood by the lighthouse, exhausted, surrounded by water on three sides, pale green in the harbor, azure behind."
Then his father realized they had forgotten to bring along the camera. They started walking back, and Ashoke asked him, "Will you remember this day, Gogol?" Gogol replied, "How long do I have to remember it?" His father laughed and said, "Try to remember it always. ... Remember that you and I made this journey, that we went together to a place where there was nowhere left to go."
posted by Ram | 4:44 PM
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