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When the morning sun streams in from the window, Mom keeps her eyes tightly shut. She has been ill for a while now and can’t wake up with dawn as she used to. Her eyebrows are a wee bit scant, her hair thin. As I wake up and turn to my side, I refrain from kissing her forehead a Good Morning. I don’t want to wake her up just yet…
Mom gave up her job when I was in the Second Form. She appointed herself, you see, as a full-time teacher-cum-Mommy.
“I am sure you will live to regret this decision.” a colleague of hers ominously announced, her shoulders drawn in a shrug. ‘Time lost can never come back.”
Granny says Mom walked down to the market that evening, barely a moment after placing her farewell bouquet in a vase. She bought me ice-cream as a treat for topping the Environmental Science class test. “I wish she knew Ma,” she told Granny as I relished my chocolate delight, “just how precious this time with my little girl is.“
Of Paneer, Pulao and Pune 