It’s been six months since Adi left us. Six months of silence where his laughter once filled our home. Some days I find myself lost in the memories of my pregnancy with him—the joy, the music, the little moments that belonged only to us. And then reality hits, leaving behind a void words can’t fill. Yet, in every prayer and every song, I still feel his presence, reminding me that our bond will always remain.
Just four songs — that’s all Adi wanted, day after day. They played on loop, filling our little apartment with his laughter and happy little dances. Even now, when I hear them, I’m right back there… in those strange, uncertain days, holding on to the love and small joys that kept us going.
“This Rakhi felt so empty without you, Adi. Mamba placed her rakhi at the temple instead of tying it on your wrist, and my heart broke all over again. You were supposed to be here — for her, for us — but now I can only hope you’re watching over your sisters from wherever you are.”
Alone in a new city. Two kids. A world locked down. And yet, somewhere between the chaos and the quiet, I found strength I didn’t know I had. This is a story of surviving — and learning to live fully, even when the world outside felt like it was falling apart.
Adu Baby, It’s been five months since you left us. Not a moment passes by when I don’t think of you. I miss you so much, can’t explain in mere words! You know what? Mamba has completely changed her room. We sold the bed, the table, everything. Since you left, she couldn’t bear to be …
Hi Adu Baby, A few days ago, we went to watch Sitare Zameen Par, Aamir Khan’s new film. I didn’t really know what it was about, but Deta and Mamba were keen, so I went along. I’m so glad I did. Throughout the movie, I kept thinking of you. I couldn’t hold back my tears. …
We had just settled into life in Singapore and had begun to truly enjoy it. It was clean, safe, and incredibly convenient. I could take Adi out in his pram without worry, and my daughter moved around the city on her own or with friends. Life had found its rhythm—and we were happy. But soon, …
Dear Adi, Today marks four months since you left us. Four months of living without our dearest Adi — the heartbeat of our family. While a lot has changed on the surface, deep down, nothing has. Not the ache. Not the memories. Not the love. Mamba passed her 12th exams with flying colours. Even though …
The last time we flew, you were running around the airport with endless curiosity, headphones on, lost in your music — calm and content, unlike any other child. Little did I know that would be our final journey together. Every mile since has carried the quiet ache of your absence.
Writing to you keeps me going, Adi. On the good days and the hard ones, these letters are my way of staying close to you. In my dreams, in my heart—you are always there.