Hi Maa, today we complete one year of moving into our own house. Can you believe it? For ages, we dreamt of setting up our own place, a major part of the 'we' being you. Your vision fueled our drive. I hope the house is very close to how you wanted it to be.
We had a small Gana Homa at home. I have been missing you even more throughout the week. You would have prepared so much for the Puja. Not necessarily excited, more anxious I think :) You would have washed all the silver utensils and puja items. Fussed about the number of people being invited, cleaning the house top to bottom. Selecting what jewelry to wear for the occasion would have been a ritual in itself.
When we were getting things ready for the Puja, I was so proud of your collection. You had every item ready right from the 'deepa's to the 'mane's. When the priest asked for bigger vessels for the prasada, I could easily reach into the shelf and give him exactly what he needed. Papa was as restless as ever, moving around and saying a hundred things at a time. I wish you were there to calm him down. When the priest asked for our raashi and nakshatra, I looked for you, our database.
I miss you every day. I want to come home to you, lay my head in your lap. I want to see you sitting at your favorite place on the floor, eating food or drinking tea, despite us repeatedly asking you to sit on the chair. I long for your signature chicken curry and also the regular comfort food you make. I want to call you mumma-dumma, ambade, amtekai and many other names I reserved only for you. Every other day, I absentmindedly think of ordering your medicine and giving you insulin. I want to take you on walks, buy you your favorite food, take you shopping, play your favorite songs.
Nobody is immortal. But you still had so much life in you, Maa. You were yet to experience so many joys. I hope you have moved on to a much better life. And yet, I wish I could wish you back in my life.
We had a small Gana Homa at home. I have been missing you even more throughout the week. You would have prepared so much for the Puja. Not necessarily excited, more anxious I think :) You would have washed all the silver utensils and puja items. Fussed about the number of people being invited, cleaning the house top to bottom. Selecting what jewelry to wear for the occasion would have been a ritual in itself.
When we were getting things ready for the Puja, I was so proud of your collection. You had every item ready right from the 'deepa's to the 'mane's. When the priest asked for bigger vessels for the prasada, I could easily reach into the shelf and give him exactly what he needed. Papa was as restless as ever, moving around and saying a hundred things at a time. I wish you were there to calm him down. When the priest asked for our raashi and nakshatra, I looked for you, our database.
I miss you every day. I want to come home to you, lay my head in your lap. I want to see you sitting at your favorite place on the floor, eating food or drinking tea, despite us repeatedly asking you to sit on the chair. I long for your signature chicken curry and also the regular comfort food you make. I want to call you mumma-dumma, ambade, amtekai and many other names I reserved only for you. Every other day, I absentmindedly think of ordering your medicine and giving you insulin. I want to take you on walks, buy you your favorite food, take you shopping, play your favorite songs.
Nobody is immortal. But you still had so much life in you, Maa. You were yet to experience so many joys. I hope you have moved on to a much better life. And yet, I wish I could wish you back in my life.
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