My morning was saddened by the news of Maya Angelou's demise. I have been an ardent fan of the lady since my early teenage years. I remember reading her autobiography - "I know why the caged bird sings" at an age where a lot of the things narrated in the book didn't make a lot of sense to me. But time after time, I kept going back to this back wondering how a woman can live to survive, smile and inspire despite of all that she has suffered and endured. As a reader of the book, it may take us few days or a week or a month to go through the pages, imagine the scenarios and estimate the book's overall impression in the end but with "I know why the caged bird sings", I remember returning to the cover of the book every few paragraphs to reaffirm to myself that this really is an autobiography of a real woman. Each time I finished reading this book, my mind raced to find one appropriate adjective that would justly define the level of respect I had in my heart for her.
