Radha was just like any other 15 year old Indian girl. Fun loving , adventurous and loves to dress up. Her life would have been perfect if it were not for her mother. Her mother was probably determined not to let her daughter have fun.
But there was...
I walked up to her front door and slid the key into the keyhole with utter reluctance. I was just back from my after-school literature club classes, which was by 7. It was my mom's idea, to keep my thoughts off leisure time and extra-curricular activities. Such a boring routine. But I never sulked. But today was different. I'd wanted to go to a three - day camp to an archaeological site. But I knew all too well that my mom would refuse, I didn't bother asking. All my friends would be on their way to the campsite now. They would have all the fun in the world. They would come and tell me all the interesting things they saw and did. And I would sit at home, sulking bitterly.
My name is Radha Gunasekar. I am the daughter of Ms. Madhumitha, a professor at the National College of Defence And Strategic Studies, and late Mr.Gunasekar, a sincere archaeologist who passed away in an accident at an archaeological site. I aspire to become a great archaeologist like my father, but my mom is determined the other way. Or maybe was. She had taken away all my books related to archaeology, enrolled my name in the school Literature club even though I wanted to join the Archaeology club, but the worst of all, we had migrated to the United States, so that I can keep my head out of adventure. I felt my life was miserable, but I never knew the reason behind my mom's behavior, nor did I have the guts to question my strict mother.
I was daydreaming about the camp when I entered the living room, unprepared for the miserable sight that stood before. When I faced the room, all that I could manage to mutter was "Oh my God". My beautifully decorated, neatly maintained house was in shambles! The couch was upturned, the curtains were on the floor, the window was open, the Television was in pieces, and there were glass splinters everywhere. I cursed my fate. It must be Simba. It was one powerful Mastiff. But something was strange. Simba was fast asleep. But I didn't bother. There was a lot of cleaning to do. I squeamishly got down to work. I put the curtains back, dusted the glass splinters out and after 2 hours of hard work, my house was back to normal. Almost.
Something struck me. Only the living room was in such a poor condition. The other rooms were intact.That's when I noticed something was missing. And that something was my precious vase. It was the only thing related to archaeology in the house. It was a birthday present from my father on my fourth birthday, with a warning "Whatever happens, dear, do not let anybody take this away. Keep it safe like a sibling." Those were his last words to me. He passed away a week later in the accident that shook the entire family. We moved here a month later.
I rose and ran up to check the case where it usually stood, and all I found was a card which looked like this:
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