It is curious how sometimes the memory of death lives on for so much longer than the memory of the life that is purloined. - Arundhati Roy

And when we look in through the windows, all we see are shadows. And when we try and listen, all we hear is a whispering. And we cannot understand the whispering, because our minds have been invaded by a war. A war that we have both won and lost. The very worst sort of war. A war that captures dreams and re-dreams them. A war that has made us adore our conquerors and despise ourselves.

They all crossed into forbidden territory. They all tampered with the laws that lay down who should be loved, and how. And how much.

To understand history,' Chacko said, 'we have to go inside and listen to what they're saying. And look at the books and the pictures on the wall. And smell the smells.