#365DaysOfWriting – Day 214

The Day After

Julian wasn’t willing to come out. He sat locked up in his room, clutching at an old compass box as tightly as he could. It was the only good memory he had of her.

Swami couldn’t sleep. All he could get were dreams of the pyre, burning brightly. He even woke up in the middle of the night, sweating in his AC room, calling out for her.

Ismail hadn’t touched his biryani. He kept staring blankly into space, wondering why there wasn’t a tender hand on his shoulder, goading him to eat. No one could make him eat but her.

Gurdeep sat wistfully on the tyre-swing in his backyard. It usually was his happy place. Now, it was only a place that had memories of her.

That’s why, more than on the day a mother’s love is lost, it’s the day after that hurts the most.

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