You were a phenomal woman who moved mountains for her children & grandchildren. The way you’d share stories of your kids growing up … almost like a child skipping through a garden in excitement. I learnt this week that maybe I’ve inherited my eyes from you…
Why don’t I hear your voice say “Who is it, is that you Chirag” as I walk past the door? Always checking to make sure I’d eaten. Something that hasn’t changed since 9th grade incidentally, when I spent 2 months living alone with you & Nanaji. That time though, you just cooked for me the whole time and turned me into a nice little ball. Things I wanted to eat, and things I didn’t even think of. In many ways, I’m a product of those 2 months, as much as I am a product of your daugther’s hard work, something she entirely learnt from you.
You fought hard I know, and I hope it is nothing but peaceful now.
The last time I heard your voice … you insisted on speaking to me … it was tough to hear you sound like you were giving up. Today, with time, I can reflect on your powerful words … and your belief in me through them.
To your legacy.