Whose fault am I?

ImageThis is the month of my birthday. Parades, marches, speeches, celebrations, congratulations are in order. A particularly nice time of the year in my household, too, when temperature drops to a level that allows balmy joviality to set in. All get a well-deserved reprieve, albeit temporary, from incessant load-shedding. Along with the winter harvest, festoons, banners, flags and photographs of my golden children decorate cities and villages alike. Patriotic songs echo aloud out of loudspeakers and people lift their chests just a bit more. Indeed, it is a great pleasure to see my children happy, enthusiastic and proud. Only a mother knows how good it feels to see her children well and having fun.

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