One year. Gone.

I went to your place yesterday. Exactly one year later. The road no longer seemed new and unfamiliar, nor did the feeling of wanting to get there quickly. Of all the times that I have been there, yesterday I had a strange feeling. It was almost as though I saw a tiny trailer of your life and yet so much was packed in those few months that I look back and wonder whether it really happened the way it happened.

When I meet your mother, I feel as though I'd known her for many years and that I have a connection with her but the connection is not because of you. And then I look back and I am reminded of last summer when I somehow got through work each day and counted days until Sunday so I can just go to your place. Yesterday, it felt like I am familiar with every nook of your home. I forced your mother to take out more clothes to put in her wardrobe, clothes she'd just put away hoping she will just be able to live in the three saris she had lying outside.

Last year, I felt like your dad is coping better than your Mom. One year later, it's reversed. Your dad is still exactly the same as last year, your Mom has still learnt to do the daily errands and get by. It is strange.

When I got there, there were chants of Gayatri Mantra. An hour later, there was food served for the purohits. Another hour later, it seemed that the mellow air had slightly lifted. Everyone ate as though it was a task to be accomplished and thereafter just sat and relaxed. Everyone had you at the back of their mind but the conversations and memories have been recounted over and over. People talk about current affairs such as IPL and Sania Mirza as though at a social gathering, and yet it doesn't feel awkward. It is characteristic of an entire family trying to cope with an immeasurable loss.

Finally, Ekta and I sat your mother down and I sermonized. How she needs to do the bare minimum for life to keep going. Minor repairs around the house, buying clothes to replace the ones that have completed their useful life. Finally, we get her to sign off on a deadline for the things that need to be done. She says that she'll make sure all these things are taken care of by 31 July. The cell phone is still not functioning. I had plans to get it going yesterday but a long power cut foiled all the plans. Oh well, perhaps it is not time yet.

And soon it was time to go. With the promise to meet again on Saturday, the day before I leave this place I have called home for over two decades. Life will move and life will move on. I hope I can keep some of you with me, if not, I will keep your Mom.