Dear Daughter

Dear Daughter Part 3

I entered the house and the memories came flashing back. My house, or rather, the only place I have ever actually called 'home', was a mighty amalgamation of weird, creepy, hilarious and all-round idiosyncratic stories. It was this place that all my happiest moments were connected to. 

As I took in the surrounding synchronously with my deep breaths, Taramma pointed out that all that had changed here since I left was the freshly painted walls. Every bone in my body wished that were true! She led me to my old room and I admit, I was kind of glad no one had occupied it while I was away. I had a weird sense of attachment to this room because this is where I had first slept alone; where I'd locked myself every time I had another mental breakdown resulting from my own stubbornness. 

I walked into my room and my mind, that is always its uncanny best at moments mostly inappropriate, played that funny music that movies insist on playing when a king enters his court. Of course, soon enough Taramma interrupted the loud music. She informed me that my brother was in the next room. I don't know why she deemed necessary to explicitly mention the presence of my sister-in-law and their children as well. It wasn't as if I still thought of my brother as the protective older sibling I always had to pick a fight with.

I couldn't contain anymore. I stopped her. "So, how is he now? Do you know?". "Much better", she said, "But Amma (my mother) seems way too stressed. She hasn't eaten well. Maybe, your presence will change that." I smiled. I hoped it would. 

I had received a call yesterday, around 5 p.m, that my father had complained of severe chest pain right before he collapsed while still at his office. His co-workers had rushed him to a hospital nearby and informed my mother to come over immediately. My brother had rushed from office and he was the one who called me. 

For a few moments, I was blank. I didn't know what I had to do. I calmed myself down and immediately rushed to book the first bus available. Unfortunately, all the other buses were filled with passengers and the best they could do was 10 p.m. So I packed my stuff and waited in the station for four long hours, filled with anxiety, apprehension and everything in between. At around 8 p.m, my brother had called to inform me that the collapse had indeed been due to low blood-pressure. 

"You don't have to come if you're too caught up there. Things are under control here. There's nothing to worry about.", my brother told me. He had always been that way, caring, responsible and unreasonably kind. I didn't know what to do. I hadn't moved for hours. Tears rolled out of my eyes. He's okay, I told myself.

"You there?", my brother inquired, "what'd you decide?"

"I'm coming home", I told him.