Once I returned home from the hostel beside the university for the weekend, I was so happy and jovial when you, Papa, told me you were coming home from Kashmir, the paradise of earth.

I never knew I had booked you a ticket to a place from where there is no turning back. No turning back—our paths are different, and one day, I will go to you. I am waiting, Papa.

The gray boundary wall became even more gray. I forgot what it felt like to sit on the portico, once beautifully adorned with the laughter and chatter of Mom, Dad, and my little brother, with steaming tea and cake.

I never dreamed of...