DEAR MOM

Dear mom,

I have never written about you. I have written about girls I have liked but never written about you. So here I sit down and type this letter just for you, dear mom. Although I don’t have clear memories of my early childhood and never asked you if it was easy for you to give up your job as a nurse to look after me, to take care of me, help me grow up, I thank you for that. It may have been a difficult decision for you to make I assume, but you still did it for me. Women are hardly asked about the effect of quitting their jobs to care for a baby or look after the family. It is expected of them, so much so that in certain cases if the newlywed wife doesn’t intend to give up her career she is criticized unfairly by others. Of course, things are changing in the present times but men are never expected or asked to give up their careers to bring up a son or daughter. You were so practical and did it anyway just for me so that I could receive your love from the moment I was born.

Mom, we don’t talk much. I mean at least when I compare with my friends talking to their mothers I don’t think we talk much. But I tell you things I would never have the courage to tell dad. I tell you about the girl I like, about the time I went to meet her. You ask me if we watched a movie and I say “no, no”. And I always feel very happy when you ask me to get KFC’s zinger burger whenever I go to a mall. Can I tell you something more? I have many close friends who are women, and also if I wanted to have a sibling it would be an elder or younger sister. Perhaps it’s the way in which women-kind can empathize and sympathize that makes them such amazing people, whom one can easily confide in, and talk about most things under the sun without being made fun off. I have guy friends too who share this trait but they are a rarity.

You know the one thing which is so underappreciated and equally undervalued is the immense hard-work you put in maintaining the home and family. It might seem that you are duty-bound to do it but the commitment and perseverance you show is just unbelievable. I have seen you washing clothes early-morning during the winters, do the dishes, when dad and I either just sit in front of the television or doze-off. I have seen you enthusiastically waking up early to prepare breakfast so that dad can go to the office and I can go to school on time, even though you might be running a fever. You never have any designated days as holidays. Dad has off days at work. I have off days as a student. But you never have. I heard you saying once “we women never have a day off”. I didn’t understand it then but now I do. Especially after you fell ill last Christmas and I had to help out dad with the household work. I realized how effortlessly you do the entire body of work without complaining about your grievances. I know I have let you down, by not providing more help in maintaining the house and share the chores to reduce your workload. But I intend to work on it. Men have so-called “more important jobs” and women are left to do the “unimportant, menial tasks”. I don’t think anymore that women do unimportant tasks. Their contribution is as important and sometimes even more as the husband’s or the son’s. I have to make sure that you have holidays too and that we share the household workload more.

Mom, I love your liking for water-less puchkas and excitement for an occasional “yum-yum chili-chicken”. I love your eyes lighting up for steamed-momos, rosgollas and misthi-doi. I love the sweet mango pickle, our “jelly-pickle” you make during the summers and the kheer you make whenever I return home for holidays. I get so delighted when you prepare “tikhil-asma” and “bairka-asma” and our favorite, though tasteless yet very fulfilling “thappa-roti”. I miss the “osa-dishes” you made when I was small. I used to love mushrooms at that point of time. I miss our walks back from primary school. Mom, you know what quality of yours I love the most. Well, it isn’t just one. It’s your humility, your perseverance, your silent sacrifices without ever making a big deal about it, your quiet stillness and calm amidst all chaos, the way you stay calm and brave even during earthquakes when dad gets all panicky and scampers out of the house like a rat. We both know about that. I have grown up to be a bit like you, mom. I definitely look like you and I have some of your qualities, though not up to your level but I am working on it. And I have so much more to say and write but I will stop here now. I know words are never enough and I don’t say this enough but I love you, mom.

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LOVE MY NEIGHBOUR

When I was a kid I used to get very interested when the secretary of the church used to announce about giving out old normal clothes as well as warm the clothes for free distribution among the poor on the streets in the winter time. And I used to feel bad that I was not able to participate in that noble act carried out by my elders. But when we initiated a project called ‘Love My Neighbour’ officially I was so delighted to be part of that.

Few very important and interesting facts I want to share with you all today about LMN.

In the beginning, we approached our friends, families, church members, different other partner organizations to give out their old but usable clothes or warm clothes. Then we stock them in one of our office rooms. We allotted few of our young boys to sort them all out according to their sizes and usability. One very committed young staff took initiative to supervise the whole thing and I want to draw the attention of my readers to this guy’s attitude towards this whole distribution project.

He discarded all those clothes which were torn or not in a usable condition. He organized to wash them all and he iron pressed one after the other personally. He folded them after ironing and put them in brown paper envelopes. He categorized each of those envelopes according to the sizes of the clothes inside them.

In the end, he was itching and scratching his skins because of handling dirty, old clothes of different people.

We initiated the distribution work at 12 AM to 2 AM in the night and gifted those packets when the beggars and poor people were fast asleep on the streets. On receiving his share of the packet, one old man started singing an old Bollywood song, “Ajeeb Dastaan Hai. Kahan Suru Kahan Khatam…” (What a surprising tale it is… when it begins and when it finishes…what’s the destination no one knows…).

This whole project gave us immense pleasure and joy. We were blessed by those old men and women on the streets.

But what caught my attention was that young colleague’s attitude towards all that he did. That was commendable. He was applauded and appraised greatly for his work and attitude. He didn’t do it as an assignment or ritual or tradition. But he did it out sheer love, care, and warmth for those who were desperately in need. And I feel this was the best way we should be celebrating or letting those deprived people part of our celebration during all these events we lavishly enjoy every year.

Stay Blessed!

REFLECTION ON CELEBRATION

My favourite month of the year is ‘December & January’ because it’s Christmas and my Birthday! The December advent smells me Carols, Christmas lights, Cakes and Sweets, Shopping, Family get-together, a series of marriage parties, Christmas Night ride, Fun and Hang-out with friends. Moreover, ‘It’s time to get a lot of gifts’. Sadly, What-to-do now! It’s all over, yet to wait another 309 days.

Uff… wish these 309 days would pass away overnight!

Through-out the year, we work hard and saves for our Festivals and Celebrations. In my research I found, the minimum expenditure of a family for a small religious festival is at least Rs. 10,000/-  and for an average Urban marriage function, it is 15–20 lakh. According to the Reliance money research, the Indian wedding industry accounts for over Rs. 1,00,000 crores and it is growing at a rapid rate of 25-30% each year. But at the end of every event, someone’s punch line would be – ‘Oh, it’s nothing worth comparing to my colleague Mr. Dixit’s ring ceremony!

With the advent of 2019, the New Year night road accident statistic increased to 71%. In every Indian city, at least 5-6 young people below the age of 35 die in the road accident. On 2nd January 2019, India Today reported, UP guzzles down 50 lakh liters of alcohol on New Year’s Eve! To be more specific, 18 lakh bottles of IMFL were sold and 23 lakh bottles of Beer were sold, in JUST AN EVENING!

These staggering statistics triggers us to one question,

WHAT IS THIS CELEBRATION ALL ABOUT?
WHERE DO OUR CELEBRATIONS LEAD US?

The celebration is a gathering of people which DEFINES a Definite Reason. It is an opportune time to Include people in our happiness, Interact with them more significantly and Convey our Love for them. The joy we share with others precipitates good wishes, blessings, and gifts.

I have received many expensive gifts from my family and friends in my life yet, for me the most priceless birthday gift I have ever received was in a piece of paper – A beautiful poem was written by my most beloved friend. I still treasure it in my wallet and carry it everywhere I go. It is just a piece of paper but the emotions, the love and the feelings it reflects are true and sacred.

Celebration and Gifts strengthen the bonding of our relationships. It reaffirms the JOY – SACREDNESS – SACRIFICIAL LOVE we have for them. The greatest evidence of it is – “God loved mankind and gave His only begotten Son, whosoever believes in Him shall not perish but have eternal life”.

What do our Celebrations and Gifts reflect today?

Keep thinking…

GRANDEUR WITH GENEROSITY

A certain king once prepared a lavish feast to celebrate his son’s marriage. As was the custom in his kingdom, on the day of the banquet he sent out his servants to fetch the invited guests to revel in the celebrations. To the utter dismay of the king, his servants came back disappointed. All of the invited guests had given some reason or the other to express their regret and inability to be a part of the celebrations. The king lamented over his foolishness to have invited such people. He then ordered his servants to go to the highways and bring as many commoners as they could to enjoy the grand feast. And so, there were a houseful of commoners who heartily enjoyed the lavish spread in place of those whom the king had earlier considered worthy of being a part of his feast.

Though the above narration is a parable, it reflects well the mannerisms of guests in today’s times. Partying was once a privilege offered by occasions. Material affluence has rendered partying into a regular affair, so much so that we tend to pick and choose which party to attend and which to let go. The importance of the occasion and the regard for the invitation thus go unheeded. This is the invitee-sentiment in most cases today.

Invitors or hosts, on the other hand, leave no stone unturned to showcase a pompous celebration. This is true for festive as well as special day celebrations be it marriages, birthdays, anniversaries, bridal showers or bachelor parties, house warming functions or baby-naming ceremonies. Competition to be a level higher than a friend, neighbour or relative in terms of the decorations, cuisines, innovative planning, return gifts, etc. takes precedence. At times hosts incur huge financial loans to present their exclusive grandeur.  

It’s not a hidden fact that many a lavish celebration speaks of the superficiality therein. And, how many celebrity marriages have succumbed to the pressures of time and events! It’s time to look deep within rather than look outwards and estimate the costs of competitive showcasing while sparing a thought for those deprived.

Isn’t it paradoxical that festivals and special occasions which are meant for all human beings (according to respective cultural and religious beliefs) have become the privilege of those who are socially and economically well off? I often wonder on 31st December and 1st January every year, if the poor cycle rickshaw drivers, the autorickshaw drivers, the beggars in the street corners even know and understand what the frenzy in the air all about! Do the child labourers get to feel special on 14th November every year as Indians observe Children’s Day or is it again the luxury enjoyed by the children privileged to have been enrolled in schools? Though the law of the land ensures free and compulsory elementary education for all children, many children in our country are still to be a part of it. Poverty, along with economic deprivation also creates huge social chasms!

What ought to be our response, then?

During Christmas celebrations every year, I remember the following verse from the Bible and try my bit to do my part:

“Go and enjoy choice food and sweet drinks, and send some to those who have nothing prepared.”

It’s not wrong to celebrate. But when we do celebrate, firstly let’s be sure that we enjoy the purpose and sentiments of the occasion with all sincerity and secondly, lets spare a thought to the poor and needy – not giving them leftovers simply to get rid of the surplus, but by deliberately planning to make them a part of our celebrations in some way.

The following teaching in the Bible has always intrigued me, since my childhood days.

“When you give a luncheon or dinner, do not invite your friends, your brothers or sisters, your relatives, or your rich neighbours; if you do, they may invite you back and so you will be repaid. But when you give a banquet, invite the poor, the crippled, the lame, the blind, and you will be blessed. Although they cannot repay you, you will be repaid at the resurrection of the righteous.”

I used to think if it is really feasible to do the above, what would people think, would relatives not feel that the host is merely being a miser and cutting costs, etc. Though easier said than done, it is not impossible.

Though one cannot change the whole world, one can definitely impact one’s immediate surroundings. True celebration is in seeing pure joy in the face of those who are often relegated to the recesses and not in merely showcasing one’s grandeur.

When the Creator Himself causes the sun to shine and the rain to fall in equal measures on the rich and the poor, it is our utmost responsibility to lessen the disparities caused by economic barriers.

A LITTLE EFFORT HAS A BIGGER IMPACT

For me, festivals and birthdays mean a lot of work and preparations. Still, I manage to enjoy it. Like every person, I too look forward to my birthday and I feel extremely happy when the day arrives. When I was a kid, I used to wait desperately for my birthday cake and gifts. I would choose the best dress and would live my “princess moment”. This happened every year until I celebrated it in a different way.

I was in 11th standard. I was heading back home after evening classes. The chilly winter wind was trying its best to penetrate through my jacket. The more it went windy, the faster I walk. I went to confectionery and ordered my favorite Gulab Jamun. I came out of the confectionery and found a girl staring inside the glass door. I could sense hunger and helplessness in those eyes. I asked “Bhookh lagi hai?” (Are you hungry?). She chose to remain silent. I took out a piece of sweet and gestured her to take it. She kept staring at the sweet for 2-3 minutes. And then she hesitatingly took it. I could see bliss in her eyes. I bought her few chocolates. I got immense pleasure and that was incomparable. Since then, I try my best to have a good time with poor kids.

Yesterday was my birthday. And due to some reasons, I couldn’t celebrate it. I and my cousin share the same birth-date. So yesterday he was celebrating his birthday. He bought a cake and went on the street. He called the hard-up kids for celebrating his birthday. Four kids surrounded him and were so happy. My cousin cut the cake and fed one of the kids with his hand. I am sure he must be happy. This made me so glad.

There have been numerous occasions when I have celebrated Diwali and other festivals with such people. The happiness on their face is divine. The crackers and sweets can make you happy for a moment. However, when you do such deeds, you get lifetime happiness. I know you would say one can’t bring contentment to everyone. But when we stretch helping hands to people, gloominess will turn into gladness.

I wish someday I will celebrate an occasion at an orphanage or at an old-age home. By this, I can be a reason for their happiness, at least for an instance. When you put your effort into making someone happy, then you get mental peace and you feel delighted. It is not necessary to spend a huge amount. But a little effort is appreciated all the time. Our society and many organizations are joining their hands for uplifting the underprivileged and malnutrition kids. Therefore, let us be a part of this noble deed. Being a reason for someone’s happiness is a blessing.

WHAT ARE DIFFERENT WAYS TO CELEBRATE?

Last few years, we have been playing a fun game called “Secret Santa” just before Christmas. It is a lot of fun and basically involves exchanging gifts in secrecy. We always used to fix an amount of money that people should not exceed. However almost every time, there will be one or the other person who would exceed the budget to show off the kind of gifts he/she can buy.

In the year 2017, I played a different kind of “Secret Santa”. There was an organization which was collecting Christmas wishes from kids living in the orphanages. They hardly have the luxury to exchange gifts. This organization then placed a huge ball of wishes in the middle of our campus. Each one of us was supposed to take up a wish and fulfill it for the child. We would never get to meet the child nor would we be able to see the expression on their faces when they receive the gift. But still many of us picked up more than one wish. Some of them really cute and few were emotional.

Those kids were asked to write down their wishes to Santa. Some of them wrote that they wanted a doll or a book or a car. Some of them even wrote that they wanted a family. Most of us tried our level best to fulfill their wishes to the best of our ability. And we so wanted to see how kids react to our gifts.

For me – that was the best “Secret Santa” that I ever played. It was really secret and brought joy to somebody who really needed it.

I ended up wondering why can’t we celebrate every festival in a similar way? Why do we need the decorations, sweets, gifts etc to celebrate a festival?

I realized that it is all about passion. If one is passionate about caring for the poor, they will find ways to work on it. Just like this organization did and they did it beautifully. If one is passionate only for his/her own pleasure, they will work on themselves only. They will show-off, buy big stuff for home, expensive clothes for the family, beautiful gifts for friends etc. There is nothing wrong with enjoyment but in my view, it should have a purpose other than satisfying one’s own desires.

Simple things can help take a big step towards this

  1. Why not share home-made Diwali sweets with underprivileged kids?
  2. Why not decorate an old age home just like you would do to your own on Diwali or Christmas?
  3. Least that can be done is to invite the family of your house help on festivals to celebrate together. Maybe visit their homes as well.
  4. Every republic day and independence, take up a project of planting trees or filling potholes or spot-fixing a garbage area.
  5. Make decorations using recycled material
  6. Make sure the all our idols that are immersed in water are environment-friendly.

I only listed down a few examples. There can be a million ways to give back to society during our own festival celebrations. Only if we make it our mission to do so, it is possible otherwise like most of us, we will always end up prioritizing our own desires over anything and everything else.

One of the biggest problem in our “Big Fat Indian Weddings” is the wastage of food. Of course, a lot of other things are wasted too and to top the list is the clothing and jewelry. But food wastage saddens me the most because usually close by the wedding halls are the slums who has kids and adults sleeping with an empty stomach. It could be so easy if we could just give away tons of food that turned out to be extra to these beggars and slums sleeping hungry. The only problem here is to arrange for logistics. There is some organization who have started this work, but in my view, the families of the bride and groom and the wedding point owners should take it up as their duty to ensure that every bite of the food cooked goes to a hungry person.

Do not waste. Every time you know that something is getting wasted, raise your voice and find out ways to get it to the person who can use it. It is so simple, only if this becomes a way of living life.

I am struggling to get there and I believe many more are. A lot of us want to do good but just don’t know how. Here is a simple solution – make it a mission of your life and you will find a way.

Celebrate because you love the festival and spirit behind not because it is supposed to be done in a certain way.

A SNOWFLAKE’S TALE – PART XIV

Meera was in pain – physically, mentally and emotionally. Her condition was critical as her pregnancy was three months running, yet she has no place to hide and no one to depend upon. The pain of carrying a baby was killing her, and the emotional agony was devastating her from within. She had hoped on her old employers as they knew her for a long time, but they also acted as if she was a whore. Tears rolled down from her eyes as she walked on the road thinking what she would do with a baby in her belly on the verge of being delivered while her bundle of joy – Sia was nowhere to be found.  The scorching heat of the sun in April was making her sicker as she reached the Kullu Bus Terminus. She took out her wallet and counted her money… ‘seven thousand four hundred thirty-four…’ She murmured. At least she could buy a ticket to Manali as she had no hope left in Kullu.

On reaching Manali, she walked straight to the place where she left Sia, at the church gate but she found no one there. She kept looking around for people whom she could ask about the church and the orphanage, but no one was seen at that time of the day when the sun was shining like a burning fireball. She had no food in her tummy, and she felt sick. She saw some construction work was going near that place. She walked toward it, but she could not reach it. She fainted, and everything looked so dark.

When Meera got back her consciousness, she found herself in a temporary shade of a few females working at the construction site.

Where do you stay?”, asked one lady and Meera was in tears.

I have no place to go, and in this condition, I might lose the baby or myself,” she replied with a feeble voice.

I think she hasn’t eaten anything…” said another lady as she offered her some rice. Meera was grateful to them and ate a bit. Meera requested them to allow her to stay there with them. They showed pity looking at her condition and spoke to the contractor. He could not say NO to them but allowed her to stay with all of them. She was asked to help in cooking work in exchange for the favour she got from all.

Meera made up her mind that she would stay close to that place so that she could wait for someone who could give some information about the church or the orphanage or about her doll. Every day she would get up early and help in the cooking. When she finished all her work, she would walk down to the building where there was a church previously, sit there on the steps till late evening and weep remembering her doll, Sia. She would cry with her heart out cursing herself for leaving her daughter alone… She would pray to God asking Him thousands of questions.

And this routine continued for the next three months.

It was on a day in the monsoon month of August, that Meera collapsed due to lack of care and proper intake of food supplements. It was evening time, and she was incessantly weeping sitting at the same place as usual. She was extremely dehydrated and malnourished. No one usually disturbed her and left her all alone to herself… and that was the reason she was not noticed by others. After 15 minutes or so when one of the females saw her on the ground, she screamed to all and rushed to her. There were few others gathered together around Meera as she was picked up from the ground and carried down to the thatched house. Some passers-by were curious as well to know what had happened. And when they were told, one male out of them kind of showed little more interest to Meera’s matter.

“What? She used to sit here all the time waiting for someone who could tell about her daughter?”

“Yes Sir, she says that she left her daughter at the church door and told her to wait till she comes back after three months to take her back.”

“Can you take me to her… I want to talk to her…”

“Why Sir, do you know about her daughter?”

“I don’t know, but I think I can help her out?”

Mr Samar Verma, the psychotherapist, was taken inside the thatched house where all the women workers were standing around her. They moved away thinking Mr Verma as a doctor. He checked her pulses, and it was rapid. He could make out that Meera needed immediate care.

She needs to be hospitalised right away… or else she will be in trouble. One of you should come with her in my car to the hospital…,” he instructed and two of Meera’s closest mates went with her in Mr Verma’s car.

Meera was admitted in the gynaecology department with Mr Verma’s reference. He stayed there waiting for the doctor’s remarks and sent the other two women back to their place assuring them that he knew Meera very well. After few minutes when Meera was in a condition to talk, Mr Verma went inside to talk to her and he was pleased to know that his guesses were right though he didn’t tell Meera that he had met Sia thinking she should not be too excited as she was not in the right condition. He assured Meera that everything will be alright.

Meera’s condition was so bad that it was difficult for her to recover quickly. Moreover, the doctors were more worried because of the baby growing inside her. They put their everything to make Meera healthy again for her to deliver a healthy baby at the right time. Mr Verma along with her wife visited her from time to time assuring and consoling her.  And within two weeks Meera was alright though she was advised not to travel or do any physical work till she delivered the baby.

Mr Verma brought Meera to his home. Meera was not comfortable with a stranger. She was unable to understand why this man was interested in her so much though she was grateful for him because he bore everything when she desperately needed medical attention. She felt comforted when she found Mrs. Verma welcoming her with such compassion. She was really puzzled by their behaviours. But she could not restrain herself from sobbing when she saw Muskaan, remembering her own daughter.

Is Sia exactly of her age, Meera?” Mr Verma asked gently keeping his hand on her shoulder.

Do you know my Sia, Babu?” Meera’s eyes glittered as she looked back at him in hope.

“Yeah, I had spoken to her, played with her as well.”

“Is it Babu? Where is she now?”

He sat down with Meera on his couch asking Kamya to take Muskaan inside.

“That I don’t know now… That was a few months ago when we went to adopt Muskaan. We also wanted to adopt Sia, but the orphanage caretakers didn’t allow us saying that her mother might come back.”

“Where are they now Babu… Can I find them? Where did they all go?”

“I have been trying to find their new address since I met you, Meera. But do you have any proof that Sia is your daughter?”

“She is mine… Yeah, I do have her birth certificate… I have all her documents, my IDs, my husband’s ID…” Meera started to get hyper, getting excited.

“Calm down, calm down… No one can take Sia from you then… So don’t worry we will find them soon. You don’t take much stress on yourself as you are not well… Trust me, I will definitely find Sia.”

Meera could feel the man was genuine and not a fraud or selfish as all others that she had met previously. She nodded and calmed down with hope.

During Meera’s stay at Vermas, Samar could observe that she never cared about her health or the baby growing within her like all other pregnant women. All she was worried about her daughter, Sia. Being a psychotherapist, he could understand the mental statuses of Meera and all the characters connected to Sia. He could assess all the emotional events that were waiting once the process of claiming Sia starts. And he will have to play the most significant role in all these matters.

Days passed by, and it was on 9th October that year, a baby boy was born. But Meera had no joy.

“Meera, you got a baby boy Congratulations!” both Samar and Kamya wished her.

“Wish me congratulations when I get back my doll, my Sia, Babu… It was my fault that I tried to play games with my baby girl… I hate myself…” Her reply was telling the condition of her heart and how bitter she had been towards herself.

“Don’t be so harsh on yourself, Meera.” Kamya caressed her forehead and comforted as Mr Verma smiled looking at her and said, “And if I congratulate you for the reason you just asked for, Meera?”

“What do you mean, Babu? Please don’t make fun of me… I am not in a condition to play any more games…” She said bitterly.

“It is not a game, Meera… Someone has come to meet you today.” He said and went outside to bring Mr & Mrs Shaw in with a baby girl walking inside with them.

Meera looked at them and the girl. Her eyes were wide opened. She tried to get up amazed.

“Sss…Sii…Sia?”

Sia looked at her Mom and then looked up at Mrs Shaw’s face. Mrs Shaw was not looking pleased as her heart was breaking away and Meera’s heart was racing. She called out her name again…

“Sia… I am Momma… Your Momma… The game we were playing is over now… You remember?” Her heart stopped when Sia was puzzled looking at her as if she could not recognise her. It was difficult for a three years child staying away from her mother for nine months to recall everything about her past.

It seemed like the time paused for a few minutes… the clock stopped ticking… the hearts stopped beating… the eyelids stopped blinking… the people and other creatures stopped moving around in the world…

After two minutes of utter silence… the tapping sound of a baby girl’s feet was heard… Sia ran towards the bed and clutched her mother’s neck tightly with her tiny arms.

Meera could not stop sobbing as she held her baby doll tight to herself, kissing all over her face. There were three women in that room in tears along with the two men whose eyes were wet as well.

In the evening, when Meera was discharged from the hospital and was taken back to Verma’s, all were gathered around the newborn baby celebrating joys; Meera and Sia could get back to each other, Mr and Mrs Shaw got a newborn baby boy and Muskaan got Sia, her old friend but a new sister to play and study together, Mr. & Mrs Verma found someone faithful like Meera to look after Muskaan, and Mr Verma is happy to have Sia as her daughter as well at the end.

That night over the dinner everyone was applauding and thanking Mr Samar Verma for his keen interest in the whole matter concerning Sia especially Meera; it was all because of him all these could be possible. It was he who spoke to Mr Shaw as soon as he could find the new number of TOH. He visited him secretly and showed the copies of Sia’s birth certificate and all the documents necessary. He assured Mrs Shaw that it will always be better for her to mother a newborn baby. And in  the end, he made Meera gift her newborn baby to the couple who took care of her Sia for such a long time.

That December was a joyous one unlike the previous one. That December Meera had to jump around collecting snowflakes with not only Sia but Muskaan as well. Last December the snowflakes were chilling and piercing but this December they were like falling blessings from heaven over all bringing agony to a full stop.