The Boat of Life Sets Sail .

Ishaani's mother, Akanksha, was suffering from advanced-stage of Melanoma cancer. Balbir had taken his wife to various hospitals in Punjab and Hyderabad. She underwent many tests, two or three operations, and spent vast amounts of money on medicines, but all efforts were in vain. The disease had spread throughout her body. The doctors had given up—Akanksha had about two months left to live. Akanksha could still walk, move, and talk for short periods. However, she was forbidden from doing household chores, so she spent most of her time lying down—sometimes reading storybooks, sometimes writing in her diary. A housekeeper was hired for the daytime to handle the chores and look after Akanksha. For the night, Ishaani's paternal aunt, Fizah, would come home from college.
​Ishaani was in the fifth grade then and had no idea about death. Hence, Balbir did not want to tell his daughter the tragic truth. He only said, "Your mum is very sick, so your aunt will look after you and cook for you during your monsoon vacation. I have to go out for a few days. Don't let Mum work, okay? And always look after her. Don't disturb Mum."
Although Balbir was Punjabi, Akanksha's family was Bengali, so Ishaani also spoke mostly Bengali—with her mother, father, and Fizah. Furthermore, since he was a Junior Commissioned Officer in the Army, his job required transfers, and as a result, he was fluent in five languages. Although He told Ishaani those words with a smile, the 10-year-old girl noticed her father's tear-filled eyes.
​                                 ...
​Ishaani had about a month of monsoon vacation from school, along with a lot of monsoon holiday homework. Balbir had gone to Haryana for a few days for strategic discussions. Fizah was her best friend, her playmate. The two of them had created models of a rainbow and a volcano. Akanksha found peace watching their uninhibited bond. She could no longer walk on her own; her world was now limited to the sound of wheelchair wheels. She would often sit by the window, her gaze fixed on the sky outside—as if searching for something in the infinite void, or perhaps sifting through old memories. An expression of unspoken sorrow would appear on her face, which also touched Ishaani's young heart.
​Ishaani's school was set to reopen in 3 days. All her holiday work was finished, but she couldn't decide what to do for the monsoon craftwork. On the other hand, her aunt was busy with college exams and couldn't come. Her mother was her only resort for help. Her mother mostly slept now, and her appearance was gaunt. Her mother’s fragile body caused her immense pain.
Yet, perhaps her mother could hear her inner thoughts.
In a broken voice, she said, "You haven't done your monsoon craftwork, have you?"
Ishaani softly replied, "How did you know?"
"Last year, I helped you with the monsoon craftwork..."
"But you are..."
"It's nothing, I can manage this much. From now on, you'll have to manage alone."
Ishaani almost shouted, "What do you mean?"
She sighed and said, "I might not be able to make the model, but I can give you instructions."
"Tell me then..."
"When I was your age, during the rain, I used to make paper boats, take an umbrella, and go with my friends to float them in puddles. I climbed trees, picked up mushrooms. Then your grandmum would cook Khichdi (a rice and lentil dish). Ah, what a wonderful taste! And my grandpa would tell me all sorts of ghost stories. Where are those days now?"
Her voice trembled, and she turned over and lay down. Ishaani noticed tears rolling down Akanksha's eyes and understood that her mother had given her an indirect hint about the model she should create.
​
                              ...
​Today, Ishaani was very happy, as every teacher at school, especially her handicraft sir, had praised her model and said, "You will be given the Best Model award."
But Ishaani's happiness was short-lived.
That afternoon, she was returning from school full of joy. But as she approached the house, she sensed an unusual silence. The faces of the neighbors standing at the gate looked sombre, and an unknown chill enveloped her. As she entered, the first thing she saw was a cluster of people and hushed whispers in the hallway. Before she could understand anything, her gaze fell to the floor, where Akanksha's lifeless body lay covered by a white sheet. Next to her, her father and Fizah were crying with their heads bowed. This sight instantly snatched away all her joy, and her chest became hollow with an intense emptiness.
Ishaani looked at her father with a stunned expression and asked, "Why is Mum lying down like that Papa?! Her face looks pale?"
Wiping his tears, Balbir said in a cold voice mixed with pain, "Your mummy is no more, daughter. She is no more... she has left all of us, forever..."
There was a moment of silence. Then Ishaani dropped to the floor, hugged Akanksha's neck, and began to sob, screaming, "I don't want any award, Mum, I just want you... Come back, come back!! Mum!!!" She cried out a piercing wail.
The model was placed near Akanksha's head, depicting a girl with an umbrella, floating a paper boat in a puddle on a rainy night.
Just moments before, Akanksha, unable to bear the intense pain in her body, had set the boat of her life sailing. She was now a star in the distant sky to Ishaani.