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

I think dad is going into depression. He has stopped going out and usually keeps himself alone. He spends late nights in office. His appetite has dropped to an alarmingly low level, dark eye bags and crow's feet have become more prominent; and the worst of all he has gone back to smoking.

I and my sister on the other hand have started to move forward. We won't deny the chasm left by her departure, but words of Strider on Gandalf's death, "we must do without hope" provides a lot of solace.

It has been two months since she died. Fight between me and my sister have restarted over the handling of the remote. My dad not so actively involved in the tiff has started to re-mingle with people. I and him had a fight a few days ago regarding the self-immolation path he was treading. after an exchange of a few heavy words all three of us were down on the floor crying. Since then, dad makes it a point not to stay late alone in the office. Most of these days he has dinner with us. Though i am sure he wont quit smoking again.



Me: "Dad, stop this smoking. It has caused the whole room to suffocate."

Enya, who has her hazel eyes similar to my mom's, would get up from her couch and in one swift motion would snatch the cigarette from his hands quite like the way my mom used to do.

Dad: "thanks."

Enya and dad both would smile at each other. Dad humming away would go to his room to sleep.