Acha, Again, its March 30. I still live inside that day. Words I can no longer want to remember or can’t forget, a life I can no longer return to. 9 o’clock in the morning, a book open in front of me… Engineering Economics and Cost Analysis It was the last days of my study holidays, and I was preparing for my final semester examination The phone rang, and something inside me knew. Not clearly, not fully just a quiet trembling in the heart before the world breaks. It was Chittappan. He asked where Amma was, where ila and thakkudu were, told me not to go anywhere. And suddenly, everyone was calling voices filled with questions they were afraid to finish. I tried calling you. Again and again. You didn’t answer. Acha… you never didn’t answer. When a stranger called, “I heard something about your dad… is it true?” I froze. I couldn’t breathe. My heart was beating fast, and I could hear it pounding in my ears. Panic attack started hitting me harshly. I cut the call without responding. Chittappan called again, trying to console me. He said, “Mole, your achan had a cardiac arrest. We were unable to save him. He is gone. You need to stay strong. Try not to let your mother panic. Take care of her and thakkudu until I reach home. His voice soft, breaking, trying to hold me together. Gone. How quietly that word destroys everything. I saw darkness gradually covering my eyes. I felt blind. I couldn’t see or hear anything around me. I wanted to cry loudly and scream, but no tears came. I felt like a statue. It took me a few minutes to even move from where I was standing. How could I go to Amma How could I tell them that the man who made us laugh until our stomachs hurt just the night before was no more? I went to her. I tried. I couldn’t look at her face. The words wouldn’t come out. It felt like a stone was stuck in my throat. “Amme…” That’s all I had. That’s all I could ever say. The words stayed trapped inside me, like grief refusing to take shape. I stood there for five minutes, unable to speak. They thought something had happened to me. They didn’t know everything had already happened. Then you came home but not the way you always did. Amma’s scream still lives inside my chest. I just held her tightly, but I couldn’t hold myself. Everything felt distant, unreal… like I was watching my own life from somewhere far away. People came. Cried. Touched. Spoke. I remember none of them. Only you. I called ila through the warden, told her you were sick. Even in that moment, I couldn’t say the truth out loud. Maybe if I didn’t say it, it wouldn’t become real. The house was full, but I have never felt that alone. I wanted to hide somewhere. I didn’t want to face anyone or be consoled. I couldn’t even cry. I just wanted to lose consciousness and sleep. I wanted to run away… to a place where no one belonged. Even near your pyre… with fire, with prayers, with people I stood there empty. Abandoned in a crowd that could not reach me. You didn’t say goodbye, acha. You just left. You completely abandoned me. I needed you. and it was the worst day of my life. And I was left behind with a thousand unsaid things and nowhere to take them. You were my answer to everything. My first call. My safe place. And suddenly, there was nowhere to go. They told me to be strong. They said they were there for me. But I didn’t want “everyone.” I wanted you. Just you. I still do. I want to go back to yesterday. I want one more laugh, one more moment one more chance to hold you without knowing I was losing you. I want your arms around me. Your voice saying, “Makkalk enth vannalum njan ille ivide.” I was afraid to believe that you broke that promise. We placed your pyre near our favourite kattuchembakam tree that you had planted. It was drizzling that night. The cremation was over. Everyone left. But I didn’t. Me, the fading pyre, and the kattuchembakam remained in the drizzle. It took me three days to cry. It took me two years to even begin to realize. A lifetime that still hasn’t healed. Every night, I try to write to you in my diary. Most nights, I fail and end up in tears. I didn’t choose B.Tech it was your dream for me. You didn’t stay to see me finish it. You didn’t stay to see anything. You gave me everything, acha. I never got the chance to give you anything in return. I wanted to surprise you. Make you proud. Stand in front of you and say, “I did it.” Now all I have are unfinished dreams with your name on them. I never wanted to grow up like this. I always wanted to go back to the days when I would sleep on your chest, holding your beard in my fingers, listening to your stories from aithihyamala and panchathantharam until I fell asleep without fear. Years have passed… but on this day, I realize I never really moved forward. I am still there under the kattuchembakam, in the rain, where you left me. I search for you in people, in voices, in small gestures in anyone who carries even a shadow of you. But no one is you Not even close My heart still carries that wound, silent, deep, unhealed. Wherever you are, acha… not a single day passes without thinking of you. In the early days, after you left, I used to dial your number without thinking as if you would still answer. Acha… Sometimes I still wish you would walk back in and tell me all of this was just a bad dream. And that you are still here. With me. Always.