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November 18. Today would be Ankit’s 21st Birthday. Happy Birthday Ankit!!! All your friends are here, Ankit. They brought this beautiful cake and we all celebrated your Birthday. This is the second year that you are not with us on your Birthday. Memories are what we are left with now. Memories. And we have wonderful memories of his Birthday, of the time gone-by. Time, we wish, we can bring back somehow or the other. Time, we will give our lives for. Time, which we hold dearly to us. Time, more precious than anything else in the world. Memories. That’s all we have now.

 

Ankit's Birthday Cake

Ankit's Birthday Cake

 

I read the following poem online and your smiling face flashed across my eyes.

“I give you this one thought to keep –
I am with you still – I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow,
I am the diamond glints on snow,
I am the sunlight on ripened grain,
I am the gentle autumn’s rain.
When you awaken in the morning’s hush,
I am the swift uplifting rush, of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not think of me as gone –
I am with you still in each new dawn.”

– Traditional Native American Prayer

Happy Birthday Ankit!!!

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October 31st. Today is my wife’s Birthday. Today is also the day when it all started. Today is the day that wreaked havoc in our lives.

It is the day when our son, Ankit, met with an accident, sustained life-threatening injuries and passed away seven days later. The day, my wife dreads, and wishes hadn’t come.

I still hear my wife frantically knocking on the door. I still hear her shrieking, cracking and trembling voice. Those voices have followed me ever since. But those voices don’t scare me anymore. Nothing scares me anymore. Those hysterical voices; they are part of me, my life now. My wife stills shrieks and cries hysterically. And there is nothing, absolutely nothing, in the world that I can do to stop that. Her tears haven’t dried up until now and I don’t know if they ever will.

My wife hasn’t stopped crying since that fateful day. She can’t sleep. The pills don’t help her anymore. Life is one hell of a journey. Nothing hurts anymore. We are at our wit’s end trying to figure out the life we have now and what to do with it. You need to have the desire; the will in you to climb out of the hole which life has put you in. My wife simply has none. She is a caricature of herself now. No will, no desire, nothing. Just dragging her life, counting her days.

Life! What a transformation! Slowly but surely, slipping away as sand through your fingers, beyond comprehension as to why it has to be so cruel?

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