My paternal uncle, my chithappa, died almost exactly 24 hours ago (not COVID-related) – he was my father’s immediate next brother and the fifth of the eight siblings. The word ‘chithappa’ in tamizh, and equivalent words in many other Indian languages, indicates a younger father – literally speaking. My chithappa…
Death, Birth. Marriage, Widowhood. Sickness, Health. Music, Silence. Vignettes of utter contrasts back to back all within 18 hours. Life itself, in fact, encapsulated in a nutshell. Last night, I ‘attended’ a wedding online. Today, an online memorial meet for my husband’s schoolmate. Right before, I caught what I could…
Every year, at around this time, my father’s death anniversary, the 15th this time, I am flooded with thoughts. His presence hovers over me constantly, no matter where I am, this towering light house of a beacon. This time, I wonder about how he would feel about the increasing frustration…
This week marks 14 years since my father passed away. He left knowing two grandchildren were on the way but without seeing them – suddenly, abruptly. With no precursive events. I felt too young when it happened. I wondered ‘why me’. Soon, though, I realized he left without suffering. And…
‘Housewife’ is a dirty word. God forbid you utter it to the inevitable “What do you do?” and one either gets a bemused look or an embarrassed shrug of the shoulders accompanied by a turning away to greener, more employed pastures. This happens all the time. A few years ago,…