My Mother, My Child
In a hospital ward, a daughter learns lessons in life and mortality as her mother battles cancer.
Any form of suffering makes us believe that we are the worst off.(Illustration: Subrata Dhar)
My friend drew a perfect analogy when she described the place that was going to be my temporary home as the Bigg Boss house. I smiled at the irony of the situation but also found a brief relief in it — looking at the immediate reality in a lighter vein was the only option to get past this period. Three pairs of cotton clothes, a few utensils, some woollens, three novels and my laptop were all that I was allowed to carry with me during the stipulated three-week stay. With just these, I accompanied Ma to the Stem Cell Transplant Unit at AIIMS, Delhi, on a Sunday morning and swerved our ties temporarily with the outside world.
No hay comentarios:
Publicar un comentario