Nani keeps losing her glasses. 
"Where did I keep them?" she always asks. Without her glasses, she cannot find her glasses.
So she needs me. To be her eyes, to find her own eyes.
Sometimes her spectacles are in the bathroom. Or on her bed. Or on her head.
"Nani," I say, "they are on your head!"
Sometimes her spectacles are in the bathroom. Or on her bed. Or on her head.
"Nani," I say, "they are on your head!"
"Of course! How silly of me. Thank you, Richa dear," she says with a giggle. 
This time, though, I cannot find Nani's glasses. Not yet.
I have looked everywhere. In all the usual places. On her head, in the bathroom, inside her cupboard, and on the puja shelf. I have looked under her favourite chair and on the dining table. 
Nothing. No glasses. Where could they be?
I decided to be a good detective. I decided to find out what she had done all day.
"I did nothing much today. Except that Veena's mother-in-law came, you know. And how much she gossips! We had many cups of tea. And she ate all the laddoos your mother had made," said Nani.
Raju said, "Nani was very busy today. She wrote a letter to the Prime Minister about her pension."
Amma said, "She spoke for a long time to your Masi. She finished knitting the sweater for Raju. And then, she went for a short walk."
I now had many clues. I quickly looked around new places in the house.
Aha! I have found her missing glasses. 
The spectacles were wrapped in wool, kept next to her pen, under the phone, on her desk. And I found a half-eaten laddoo there as well. 
For Nani's next birthday, I will save money for an extra pair of glasses.