The Melancholic Bond and an Insufficient Daughter
“So, I am leaving on this Sunday night. . . ” “Alone?” “Yea . . . It’s the Air India flight, so the luggage thing is sorted. Also, Anita aunty will come to pick me up.” (Silence) “It feels like yesterday was your first day in school. You chose to go to school while you were still underage and we never had to convince you about it. . . You know, on your first day you didn’t eat your lunch (laughs) . . .” My incapacity to respond to it muted our conversation. But I was amused by the emotions flickering in her eyes. Still, it was unbearable for me to know her closer and I turned away into thoughts. My reality, since the age of one was that of being raised by grandparents and away from parents. To me, parents were a holiday destination or freedom from the rules imposed by grandparents. Being with them on vacations meant waking up late or choosing jalebi over breakfast or to devour chocolates and ice-creams