Dear Papa,

Ashu is here visiting. He is now a big man. Working and hustling all on his own. Working and living in a big city all by himself. Today I asked him if he wanted cinnamon roll and he had it by warming milk and dunking and soaking it in. Aapki Jalebi and Dudh ki yaad aa gayi. Dil bhar gaya.

There are times when you see glimpses of people you live in other people you live. Is that family? Is that love? Is that projecting your context and love? Does it matter what it is?

Pyar ko pyar hi rehne de koi naam na do.

It is my birthday, according to IST. Are you there somewhere papa? Can you see me? Are you watching over me? 

I miss you and think about you most days. I keep hearing that this gets better with time. The only thing that got better I think is that tears fall more freely. The knot in the throat is not painful. But that void is still there. I wonder if we meet again what will we talk about?

Did you really love me as much as I remember it?

Could you really read me as well as I think you did?

Does it matter what the truth was or is it more important what I felt and how I remember it?

Chuti Muti

 Dear papa,

I miss talking to you. Talking about you. There are things that I want to tell others about you but I fear that I my voice may shake or eyes might spill with emotion and that can be difficult for most people to deal with. 

I realize that I will not have any new memories with you. No new quips to chuckle at. This is it.

I also realize how very lucky I am to have known you and seen you and love you and be loved by you. There is an earnestness and authenticity about you that is not common. You always tried to say what you mean and mean what you say. Even if it was not what I wanted to hear. Even when saying the different thing was easier. A lot of people do not do that.