Of missing someone…

July and August of every year are very difficult for me. People who are close to me know how susceptible I am to losing my shi* during these days and handle me with kid gloves.(Thank you, by the way, you know who you are) These months are super important for two reasons – one month took away what I held the most important, and then the next gave me something that I will always, always be thankful for.

In the span of a year, I had Harshitha and I’d lost my mother.  To people who’ve never lost a parent, it’s unfathomable to think of something like that. But I know, it is inevitable. I have made my peace with the fact that I’ll never have a mother to cry my heart out to, but the fact that hurts the most is that Harshitha won’t be ever able to experience the incredible, mad, gut-wrenching love that my mother could display.


When I say mad, I say it in the most affectionate way, but actually, mean the dictionary version of it – I’ve seen her fight people thrice her size when it came to protecting us – and I’ve seen her challenge every norm that society had thrust upon her, while fighting her own battles – and managing to raise two children, while at it.

From travelling without tickets, without a return date or a particular destination in mind, to being the mother who’d hide my school uniform and turn all the clocks in the house an hour backwards the day I had picnics (Yes, I know!) because that was the only way she’d get me to not go, being my mother’s daughter probably has been the most adventurous, maddening and invigorating thing that has ever happened to me.

I miss the madness more than anything else, Amma – normalcy is overrated.

P.S. I hope they have chai up there, wherever you are.


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