"The soldiers marched in front of the house. We were scared and hid in the back", Ityakki was in the middle of her usual storytelling. She kept tapping rhythmically on a dry coconut. The sound and the rhythm resembled military boots. She was sitting in our courtyard, in a remote village of Kerala in South India. We were surrounded by lush green trees, still dripping tiny droplets from the previous day's Monsoon rain. We used to call it the "tree showers".

Ityakki was 70 years old then. She loved narrating the eventful times from her childhood. Freedom struggle was rampant in India against the British then. The British military did not waste any possible opportunity to quash the freedom movements and kept raiding houses in search of the freedom fighters. She was one of the many, who managed to survive the conflicts ensued. She was a little girl then.

She sat there all day when the workers de-husked rice. Those days have to be dry without rain. The air will be filled with hay and rice bran. She told stories after stories. She sometimes sang songs

"Tap tap tap".... I startled from my sleep. I broke a sweat in the scorching heat of California. For a second, I thought I was in my hometown and Ityakki was sitting across the room, tapping that dry coconut.

"Tap tap tap"... I regained my senses. Totally forgot that neighbors are repairing their backyard fence today. Looks like they started real early. That is where the noise comes from.

Today is the big day. Today, Tanya is graduating. She was one of the first users of my non-profit organization "Books on Wheels''. We started with the toughest neighborhood in the city a decade ago. A neighborhood where the homeless population is dense whose kids do not have access to public libraries. Tanya was one of the first kids who walked to the book truck, her eyes filled with curiosity. People like her kept me going despite so many instances of vandalism towards the truck. Tanya and her friends kept reading. They scored good grades and participated in debates. I still remember the day I read Martin Luther King's speech - "I have a dream" to them. By the end of the reading, their eyes were glistening. Tanya's graduation fulfills a purpose. The reason why I am in this country. No wonder why I dreamt of Ityakki today.

The tap sound actually took me back to 9000 miles across oceans, deserts and land. I transformed into that wide eyed little girl sitting in front of Ityakki listening to the stories. The stories of slavery. Of grit and fight. Of freedom. The stories that molded my life. The stories of purpose.

I drove to Tanya's high school. The atmosphere was filled with laughter. Cameras flashed. I saw Tanya's parents standing timidly in a corner. We all joined and took seats.

The name was announced. She walked the stage confidently. That little girl who walked to my van years ago has flourished. Fully bloomed into a confident girl. I closed my eyes. I could smell the monsoon rains now. I could hear Ityakki's voice now. I could smell the hay. I could smell dry coconuts. The trees are showering those beautiful droplets. Oh, am I crying!!