Dear Adi,
It was Shivratri yesterday. For many, it is a day of worshipping Shiva, our Mahadeva. For me, it has always been one of my most favourite days since childhood. I carry so many fond memories of this beautiful day.
Yesterday, however, felt different.
All I could do was think of you… and of last year’s Shivratri.
Ever since I was young, Shivratri has been special. My Papa used to perform the puja, and we would visit the nearest Shiva temple. Those memories are still so vivid in my heart. After I lost Papa, I mourned him for a very long time. For years, I couldn’t imagine any festival without feeling his absence.
Slowly, with time — and with you all in my life — something shifted. With Deta, Mamba, and you beside me, I had slowly started to feel joy during festivals again. I had started healing in small ways.
But last year’s Shivratri was very different. It had been just over a week since you left us. I was restless… numb… completely lost. I thought maybe meditation would help, maybe it would bring me some small measure of peace.
No matter how much I tried, I simply couldn’t focus.
All I could see were your last moments, like a movie… when I carried you to the hospital in my arms. That was the last time I held you close — I didn’t know it then.
That Shivratri, all I could think was how I had failed you as a mother. I kept thinking — I should have taken you to the hospital earlier. Maybe things would have been different. Maybe you would still have been here.
This Shivratri, all those feelings came back again. It reminded me of my loss. I relived that day all over again.
And yet… something else happened.
That evening, when I sat down to meditate, I felt you around me. I could see you walking towards me, with that same naughty smile. It felt so real… so close… as if you were right there.
I don’t know if I will ever be able to experience Shivratri again without being taken back to that day.
Maybe Shivratri will never feel the same for me again.
Maybe it will always bring me back to you… to that day, to that moment, to the last time I held you close.
And maybe that is how it will be now — every prayer, every silence, somehow finding its way back to you.
Love you always,
Mamma
