The mobile rang incessantly. It was dad, yet again. I yanked the phone on and thundered, “Dad, I told you not to call me during hospital hours”. "Mandira, mom is in the ICU, she may not make it this time…...". Silence hung like a thick cloud, finally dad disconnected..

Later, as I settled in my uncomfortable journey back home; my mind raced into the painful past, trying to piece together the unsavory events of life.

Mom and dad had a typical filmi wedding. A passionate first love, big time parental opposition; and marriage against all odds. Mom's day began and ended with dad. And dad, was a smooth talking, charming rascal personified. And to add to it he had trouble hanging on to any job. Adding to the woes were his dubious schemes. So to make the ends meet, mom had to become the bread winner. As I grew up, I could fathom the mess around. Each time I asked mom about dad, she would always have the same reply, "He will come around!” with a smile on her lips and twinkle in her eyes. But over the years, the smile began to stretch thin.

I wanted to be a doctor, hence immersed myself in studies. School, coaching classes and books became my life. It so happened, that one fine day, a local politician was killed in broad day light. For security concerns we were given a very welcome holiday. I thought I would go home and cook a surprise dinner for mom. She had been working very hard these days, keeping long hours. 

I came home, unlocked the door and went inside. To my horror I found mom in the arms of a strange man, with a warm glow on her face.

Our eyes met briefly, without another word I tiptoed out. Overnight, a wall sprang up between us. We never talked about HIM. We barely communicated with each other now, though mom tried very hard to reach out to me. I buried myself in work, moved out of home to pursue medicine, ran to the US to do post doctoral research. My social life was a series of meaningless one-night stands. I was convinced that bone grinding work will somehow ease the ache that time refused to heal. But it wasn’t to be, I realized some wounds never heal they just get buried deep within and the pain ingrains itself for good.

With a thud, I snapped back to the present. We had landed. I reached the hospital and met dad outside the ICU. He seemed to have aged so much. After the initial pleasant talk, he ruffled my hair and said gently, “Mandira, I have made my peace with her past, as I was the trigger. It’s time for you to do so too!” Stunned, I stared at dad. No words were exchanged, none were needed. Silently I moved towards mom's bed. But it was too late. She had already flat lined.....