When we first moved to Hyderabad, we often drove by a lovely building surrounded by a garden, and I always longed to walk inside.
I finally did. My daughter took a couple of pottery workshops, there. And then, I attended a reading by Scottish author Margaret Donald in the lovely amphitheater at the back of the cultural center.
If someone had told me, then, that three and half years later, I would be sitting under that frangipani tree, reading my book to an audience of children and their parents, it is quite likely that I would have laughed out loud, even as I secretly wished such a dream could come true.
Well, it did, on Friday evening.