I've never written about this aspect of my life - because it's difficult not to think about this without an accompanying, fierce piercing pain.
One of my fondest memories of my Dad is when he would gently move the falling hair from my forehead and tuck it carefully behind my ear when I was studiously bent over some scholastic task or the other.
There's a sense of sukoon associated with that memory; the feel of sweet summer breezes; the knowledge of no real life pareshaani; Kerala, and a laid-back living I would love to go back to - to laze in cool summer nights and dream of the high-flying life. Because there was a simple simplicity in that life that afforded you to dream the grandest of dreams and live them, and yet be happily care-free.
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