20. The Rise of Obsession

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उनसे मैं यह कहता नहीं
पर, मैं सहम जाता हूँ!

When I was a child, dad would sometimes come home sober, he would call me and Ayush towards him and me and my brother, like foolish kids used to believe that good dad is here

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When I was a child, dad would sometimes come home sober, he would call me and Ayush towards him and me and my brother, like foolish kids used to believe that good dad is here

Growing up, we believed that our Dad was two different people, a bad dad and a good one.

He would sit in between us on the sofa, and then he would show us pictures of his parents, grandparents, and great-grandparents.

The education of our legacy.

How did we become who we are?

Why is it that everywhere we go, there is a person taking pictures of us?

What have we really done in life to be who we are?

These questions always itched my brain yet whenever I wished to ask, Then Mom would enter, she would grasp my arm in her hand tightly, sometimes her nails digging harshly in my skin,

and she would take me away from dad even when I used to keep looking back.

There was rarely a time I would see the good dad and even then, mom used to take him away.

Never did she ever pull Ayush from dad, It was just me.

What was so scary was that she never cared about Ayush. It was always Dad with him, yet Ayush never talks bad about mom,

But he hates dad.

Whenever I would ask him, he would say, 'Mom is protecting you, Amaira. Listen to her.' and I did.

Even when my heart was falling apart I took a step ahead and lost my home.

Today I realized that the home I was mourning for a decade, It was never mine.

The eight months I've spent with Abhimaan with six being his girlfriend, I realized that home is where people care.

Occasionally, he talks to his mother on calls, and I just watch them with a deep longing in my heart.

I love him, I wish every single happiness in this world for him, yet There is a part of me that cries for my mother,

Whenever I see Abhimaan with his mom, I get so jealous of that part, I want a mother.

Why did God not give me a mom?

“au revoir!” Abhimaan says Bye in French as his thumb circles over the end button on his phone.

His mother passed a warm smile, “au revoir, je t'aime, dis à Amaira que je l'aime aussi" The only thing I managed to grasp from this conversation was, Bye and Amaira.

As soon as Abhimaan ends the call, I start my question, “What did she say?”

Abhi sighed and leaned his head back on the headboard of the bed, his hand extended in my direction and I immediately slid on his lap.

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