Ganpat and The Khais She was our Mhatari Aayi (the old mother), our grandmother, the best story-teller I have ever met. After our dinner, we children would gather around her in the front yard waiting for her stories. As we would sit in the circle, she would take her tobacco pouch out, take a pinch of it and rub it on her palm, and like a movie hero, in slow motion, she would make it disappear between her lips. Like the most wanted narrator, she would tell a new tale every night. Though she had a great stock of stories, our favourite was the ghost stories. We, the kids between 4 to 14 years old, would listen to the ghost stories with great amusement. They were unique as they had a weird kind of lead character, silence and suspense. Just to prove that we weren't scared of ghosts, we would sit there listening to the story till the end,...