the chronicles of the Singh's on lane 42 (ii)

My mom died last week and my father is devastated. He is not showing it, but i have seen him crying in his room. He doesn't wish me to see him broken down. His trials of brave front are as hollow as this house without her.

I miss her in lot many ways. Inadvertently after coming out of the bath a few days ago I shouted, "Mom, where are my clothes." Suddenly I recalled she wasn't there. My sister, Enya, came out running from her room, and both of us cried like 3 year old kids.

After a gap of fortnight dad went to work today. I went to drop him till his workplace. Suddenly old memories flashed back. There were days when mom and dad used to drop me to work and go for long drives. at times they used to go up to 300-400 kms and I had to hire a taxi back home.



God plays games, and few of them are brutal ones.