I wish I could have a second chance at life. I am a daughter born to the most loving and supportive parents ever, and a sister to a fun-loving brother. I had everything that defines a happy life. Nonetheless, soon after my mother was diagnosed with leukaemia, everything shook the very foundation of our happy and happening family. My father broke down and my brother became a responsible and hardworking IT robot, followed by a freelancing job which brought the extra money that we all required. We did everything that we possibly could to make mom stay back with us for a little while longer.

The comedy sessions in our household, transformed into a typical philosophical class like atmosphere, where my mom would say, ‘everyone has to die and that is natural so never mourn for it’.

I had no other option than to sit and smile at her stories, that were supposed to make me feel better, but they really didn't. Very soon, I realized that my mom will not survive for long and I started working on the stages of grief. At least, my mom was happy to see me work on it for myself. It was quite a routine morning in our house that day when I woke up to serve my mother food from her monitored diet and the medicines that she was supposed to take within the said time. These mornings were very different. Even when the sun was up, I never saw the joy of sunshine. It is so hard to be practical and stick to reality at times. I went to her room with the food, when I saw my parents sleeping peacefully. I saw my mother's face, even in sleep, it was painful, with her eyebrows slightly crooked. My father was lying peacefully, and I didn't want to wake him up with the thought that this man goes through a lot. I poked my mom and she woke up immediately.

Mom turned around to wake dad up as he might get late for work. She touched him, and she went pale.

Her face confirmed something unusual and I rushed to check what was it. I saw that my father was cold enough to be declared dead. My throat instantly became as hard as wood and I didn’t have the power to say a single word. I lost him, and I could not even do anything about it. The doctor came home to confirm his death, and the cause was a cardiac arrest. But only I knew what actually caused it. I became stronger after that day. Mom would sit and cry, I still wonder whether it was for dad or for her incomparable pain.

Relatives always stayed by our side, but I constantly felt alone.

My brother would talk to me every day about the expenses and budget plans. I understood them but really didn’t want to listen to them. I would sleep with my mom after that, in case she needed something at night. One night, six months after my father expired, my mom’s health got serious. The doctor declared the time has come to bid adieu to her. We admitted her to the hospital. Another wave came gushing right after.

That night I sat by the window with the thought that I was considered an experimental rat in the sight of God, because clearly he takes the hardest situation possible and throws them at me. Probably, if I was not strong enough to accept them, my mom and dad would have been alive today.

The next morning, my brother woke up and went to work, I thought he might be very worried about something at work, or about mom. I asked him, ‘will you take breakfast’? He answered, ‘Can you make khichdi like mom’? I was startled at this response, never did my brother ask for anything in specific. He has always said things like, ‘give me what you have.’ Maybe he was missing mom. I made Khichdi, although not like mom, but yeah nearly the same. He touched my head with a smile with a solitary feeling. ‘It’s only you and me now, Nikky.’ I was startled.

Father left before ma without any prior notice. My brother was my alibi and maybe I was his. We probably substituted a father and mother figure in ourselves, for each other. I knew I still have him.

We went to the hospital and found out that she was still alive but had lost all her senses. All organs had given up, except her heart. She had the most beautiful heart in the World and I am not saying this just because she is my mom. Almost a year after her death, when I had to gulp down the metaphorical poison of my parent's death, I landed a job in a well-renowned company in Kolkata. My brother and I created a small world of our own; we adopted a pet and named her ‘Shifu’. Every evening, my brother would pick me up from the office doorstep and we would return home together. In the weekends, we would pick up four bottles of beer and spent the night on the terrace. We even spoke about mom and dad and how they were.

We reminded each other of those lovely sunny mornings when mom and dad would fight with one another over petty issues and we would simply ignore them.

I lost my brother in an accident. I am no longer moved by anything. Death does not scare me, nor does life.

I have learned to confine to myself in this huge house that has all the memories of my near and dear ones. That evening, when I lost my brother, my last hope for living life, it was a lovely evening, a four-year span after mom was detected with leukaemia, we decided to watch a movie in the cinema. I was waiting at the doorstep of my office. The show time was nearing when I got a call from him, ‘I won’t come, I am loaded with work today!’ I was upset but didn’t tell him. I returned home.

After an hour, I got a call from his phone and a strange voice was saying to me, “your relative is dying come quickly.” I became as cold as a corpse.

I swallowed, took my purse and went out of the house. I didn’t go to the spot but to a place when I could die or cry out of rage, anger, sorrow, happiness or whatever I was feeling. Later, my relatives called me to inform me that my brother had died in a car crash and that they are taking them to the cremation house. I really had nothing to say. They were worried that I might commit suicide. But I had nothing left to lose or gain in life. I left my job and sat back at home for another year. I gave away Shifu, in case he dies as well. I feel everyone I have in life will eventually die. Three years later, a windy and stormy night came around, the exact kind that reminds me of my family and the nice cosy warm bed on which the four of us would sit by each other and tell horror stories only so that we could sit and cuddle.

There is a mango tree in the middle of our courtyard that my brother and I seeded and watered so that we could pluck and eat mangoes whenever we wanted.

There is a balcony in our house where chairs were kept, so mom and dad could sit there and have a long chat while watching us play in the courtyard. Thinking of all these memories, I slept off in my bed. I heard a knock on the main door that woke me up. I went near the kitchen and took the jug to pour water, then waited for a second knock. I watched the maid sleep peacefully. It must have been a mistake, I thought, and went off to bed. The second knock startled me, and I was worried. I sat on the bed for a while and checked the time; it was two in the morning. My maid was unmoved. It was getting late enough to be worried. I once again stepped into the balcony and looked down.

Except for a drenched street dog that was lying down miserably near the gate, there was not a soul to be seen anywhere. A rainwater puddle was there under the lamp post.

A breeze ruffled the mango tree in the courtyard and a few twigs fell down and broke. I heard the knock once more. I turned back to confirm and heard the knock again. Indecisive about whether I should open the door with such a threatening vibe, I peeked through the keyhole and saw nothing. I opened the door with as much courage as I could muster, and a rod in my hand.

When I opened the door wide open, I saw my family standing on the other side of the door.

I didn’t know whether to welcome them or to hug them right there and hold onto them for dear life. A chill shiver and warm blood passed through my nerves at the same time, right from the brain to the rest of my body. In that moment, happiness, sorrow, anger, depression - all were simultaneously active in my body. I don’t remember what happened after that.

I wish I could get them back in my life once again. Even if for just an hour!

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