That day is still etched in my memory. The worst days of our life somehow start like any other normal day.
It was a Sunday and I was lazing around, fighting with my mother, who got ticked off like every other weekend, over me waking up late and wondered if I could ever be a good wife or a docile daughter-in-law. Typical mother, I thought, as I rolled my eyes. I was so used to such taunts now that I had learnt to ignore them.
As I grudgingly sipped away my second cup of tea for the day, the deafening music from my brother’s latest rock band obsession took my patience quota of the day, away! I plugged off the music system, threatening my snickering brother that the entire music system would be out the window, if there would be ever be a repeat of it next time. I know he would plug it back in as soon as I was out of his room.
Taking a deep sigh, I started my art pet project- the one I often lose myself in, only to find myself in return! As I made those lengthy strokes with my brush, I felt the dissatisfaction of the day slowly slipping away through my fingers. I felt like the creator himself when I could create something magical with every stroke I made.
I was then interrupted by a piercing cry from the living room. I dropped my art supplies and the unfinished artwork on the table, rushed to my mom. With her phone still held loosely in her hands, she appeared to be in trance. I grabbed the phone from her hand, only to hear the voice from the other end announcing the martyrdom of my father, Captain Sandeep Kumar in the deadliest Terror Attack.
All the happenings of that fateful Sunday morning which had looked so significant for the sixteen year old self at that time, looked so trivial when the news of that heavy loss stuck us. As we huddled together grieving for our father who would never come back to us, the pages of my open art book fluttered.
The art I made so enthusiastically, just a few minutes back, would remain incomplete, reminding me of the day when our lives took a U-turn!
In response to What do you see #47