Piya Mukherjee Kalra
If I offered something in the temple with my left hand, either the priest would refuse it or give me a stern look. Ma would prompt me to use my other hand. Every time that happened I secretly cursed the priest. Left-handedness was considered to be some sort of disability. Many would look at me and remark, "Oh! She uses her wrong hand." I could never figure what was so wrong about it.