Seethayya's nanna passed away.

It is not that Seethayya is a kid. Yet, Seethayya, though in his thirties and having fathered four children, is overwhelmed by sorrow with the passing away of his nanna. Like a kid, he cried terribly in fits. The minute it dawned that his father is no more with him to share his agonies and ecstasies, he felt alone in the world—felt a void in his heart, an emptiness in life.

Nanna is no more.

Nanna, who was there yesterday, is not there today. Nanna—who, bathing at dawn, wrapping himself in a neatly washed dhoti, used to sit everyday in the verandah leaning against the pillar and meditate on god—is no more. There is no nanna for him to say, "I shall return soon from the market," while going out. Today, the pillar in the verandah is standing alone, all in sadness.