letter 2- A Winter Afternoon and Your Warm Hands

 Letter 2: A Winter Afternoon and Your Warm Hands

Dear Mamma,

I don’t know why today, out of everything, I remembered that winter afternoon from our school days. It’s so vivid in my mind, as if I could step right back into it.

It was one of those sunny winter days. The sunlight felt soft, golden, and gentle, and I remember coming back from school—both of us, tired and hungry, laughing as we walked toward home. You were sitting outside, knitting a sweater, your hands moving fast but gracefully, focused and full of love. That moment felt like peace itself.

I threw my school shoes up into the air one by one—flying them off like a bird escaping a cage—and you looked at me with your calm smile and said softly, “That’s not right, beta.” You didn’t shout. You never did. You had that quiet way of teaching us. You made everything feel safe, even your corrections.

We were living in the industrial area back then. But in truth, it was only ‘industrial’ by name. There were barely any factories running—most people were using the space as residential. The roads were wide, with patches of grass and little gardens blooming on both sides. Even though the place was simple, it had a certain charm… and it had you.

I still remember the sound of the koel birds echoing through that silence—“kooouuu… kooouuu…” It would go on for minutes, such a beautiful sound that it became part of the rhythm of our lives. And just five minutes after we got home, you would stand up, put your knitting down, and bring us food. That simple act… it meant everything. Your food tasted like home, like care, like all the love you never said in words but always showed.

Now when I close my eyes, I can still smell that warm roti, see your gentle eyes, and feel the softness of those quiet afternoons. So much has changed, Mamma. I wish I could come back to those days, even for just one afternoon. I wish I could be that little girl again, returning from school to find you waiting in the sun, knitting peace into every stitch.

Take care of yourself, Mamma. You are always in my memories, not as a distant thought—but as the core of who I am.

With all my love,
Your daughter

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

letter 4 small

  Letter 4 — 14th December 2020: The Flight Over Shimla, and My Heart at Home Dear Mamma, I’m writing this just after returning from Bangalore. I missed you so much the entire way back home—it was as if your voice was echoing inside me throughout the journey. The flight was smooth until we reached Chandigarh. The pilot announced, “Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, the airport is a little busy so we haven’t received landing permission. We’ll need to circle for a few more minutes. Right now, we’re flying over Shimla. Please enjoy the beautiful view of the mountains.” And in that moment, I looked down and saw the majestic hills of Shimla beneath me. I smiled and thought— one day, once things settle, I will bring Mamma here. We’ll go to Shimla together. All of us—Dilip, Tejas, you, Papa—we will go on a peaceful trip and make joyful memories. Dilip is so caring and gentle, Mamma. You both will enjoy his company so much. You’ll feel as if you’ve found a son, not just a son-in-law...
Read more

Letter 97 He Wanted to Treat His Mother Like a Queen — And So Did I

  Letter 97 Date: 9th July 2025 Dear Mamma, Yesterday, I came across a YouTube short — just about a minute long — but it shook me to my core. It was probably from a Pakistani news anchor interviewing people on the street. The question was simple: “Tell us a wish that you know can never be fulfilled.” I thought people would say things like becoming a Bollywood star or the President of the United States — and many did. But then came a man, maybe in his late forties or early fifties, and what he said made me freeze. He said, “My biggest wish is to take care of my mother like a queen. But when she was alive, I didn’t have the means. And now, when I finally have the money, she is no longer here.” The screen cut to black with a soft, tragic sound. That moment… it stayed with me. Tears rolled down my cheeks instantly, and they haven’t really stopped since. Because Mamma, his pain is mine too — only difference is, you’re still alive . And still, I feel like that helpless man. I am in ...
Read more

Letter 4 — 14th December 2020: The Sky Above Shimla, and My Heart with You

  Letter 4 — 14th December 2020: The Sky Above Shimla, and My Heart with You Dear Mamma, I’m back from Bangalore now, sitting quietly in my room, and my heart is still full of everything I felt today. The whole journey back to Yamuna Nagar felt long, not because of time or distance, but because I missed you with every passing moment. I kept thinking about your face, your soft voice, and that warmth only a mother can give—something I never stop craving. My flight from Bangalore was scheduled in the afternoon. Everything was going smoothly until we reached near Chandigarh. Suddenly, the flight began circling in the sky. After a few minutes, the pilot’s voice came over the speaker— “Good afternoon ladies and gentlemen, the airport is currently busy, and we haven’t been given permission to land yet. We’ll be in a holding pattern for a while. We’re currently flying over Shimla. Please enjoy the beautiful view.” As soon as he said Shimla , I turned to the window. Below us, the mounta...
Read more