Category: Seasons

This is the Eid gift I got last night, my Eidhi. As a practice Eidhi is offered by an elder to the younger lot however, this was the other way round. My daughter Chandni Arora Singh brought it for me. Proud of you that you picked it for me knowing fully well that both of us will cry for the rest of the evening reading even the first few lines. I don’t remember if we wished each other, we did hug to the brink of breaking down. Avoiding eye contact, we let the book lie on the table wrapped and sealed in its cellophane cover as if hundreds of lives were throbbing under the rubble of what were once happy warm homes. Sipping my drink and feeling uneasy at the very thought that I had still not opened it I stole glances at its cover illustrations and was traumatised by the copperish-bronze title as if souls trapped in the book were blazing a mirror in my eyes. I wanted to start reading it but didn’t have the guts to open it. I didn’t have the strength. I felt guilty, and almost responsible for the barbaric treatment to a people, to a quam over the last six months in particular and over the last seven decades. I have only managed to read the first Letter since last night. Sorry, I can’t read any to you. After this do you want me to say Eid…. Gurgaon, 31 March 2025