When you share walls, you share food, and when you share food, you share lives. That’s why kids in our neighbourhood ended up growing up in each other’s houses. One such kid literally grew up in our house. Her name was Dolly. The only daughter of a Malayali couple who both had a job, she was a little over three when I was five or so. As a result, she was left in our house to be looked after by my amma. Since we didn’t have a sister of our own, it was a good mix. To this day, amma refers to that girl as ‘my tail’ (beela in Tulu) because she was very fond of me. Used to follow me everywhere and in a way, I was practically her babysitter. Later, they left Bombay for Trichur and her mother used to write letters to amma in Malayalam, which my mother used to get read out by another Malayali lady in our lane. As of now, I live in Mangalore, not very far away from Kerala and I am certain she won’t remember me at all.