 She was the mother of all who knocked at her door. The troubled souls who came seeking refuge were all given a cup of comfort, their pain easing softly as she listened to their story and shared their grief, her calm, quiet presence being the gentle assurance that things would be well. When the audience was over, the supplicants were sent out with small parcels of food, a bag of rice, perhaps, or taxi fare, but they all came out feeling better, their soul restored.
She had a special fondness for children, her charm that made them swarm joyously in her presence bordered sorcery. Their laughter was a particular delight to her, and when they chant, Lola Asing, Lola Asing, an undescribable unique bond was formed, transcending time and space. |
