In my grandparents’ garden, watching monkeys play, peacocks and peahens dancing, and the tortoise getting comfortable under the winter sun, while we sit and wonder about the miracles of life, is a family ritual. In the evenings golden light filters through a big neem tree from the garden into the house. My grandfather sits there every day, almost religiously, watching this tree and conversing. I often join him, and then the dialogue begins. Childlike fascination, curiosity, and wonder take over, and logic has no meaning. He takes me into a dream world every time, through the narration of imaginary stories, intertwined with mythology and the entire atmosphere begins to feel like a theatre performance. Engrossed in the words of this storyteller, I lose sense of history, time, and place. I begin to discover the unfathomable world and the magic of life that fascinates him even today, at age 91.