The Comeback

There were festivities all around. Homes were adorned with flower rangolis. Children were excited to receive new clothes and sweets. They would be meeting their cousins too. Even dad's friend's family would be here to enjoy the Onam feast. They would wait for their Christmas gifts. It was a special bond.

 The kids were a boisterous lot. The neighbour walked in to meet and greet. The day was hectic till lunch was served, and the kids ran out to play. The elders would then catch up with the latest happenings, and go for their afternoon siesta. Once the crowd dispersed, there was a semblance of calm. The thought of preparing for another day of daily grind, was brushed away, to relish on the remnants of the festive day.

      Partings were always sad. Promises were made to be back again to celebrate yet another festival day.

    

 Sadly that was not to be. The tragedy struck. A young life was smothered. Snatched away. A pall of gloom descended, only to linger on and on. The family was devastated, children too young to register the impact.

Mother. . . she tottered between sanity and insanity. A thin borderline. Father. . . held on silently. The show must go on. It did, minus the festival gatherings that were the life line of every caring family. The son who left was the one who was the life of all festivities, a robust young lad with myriad wishes. Mother. . . she couldn't bring herself to celebrate. The children understood.

  

Years passed. All moved on with their lives, work, marriage, grandchildren, all in good time. Slowly the joys were regained. It was a great solace, seeing mother at the helm of affairs once again.

Time does heal, not completely though.

However it was a welcome comeback.