Confession

I have a confession to make. To my father and my mother.

Every time I have felt horrible, depressed, sad, betrayed, hopeless, frustrated, scared, unloved or over-worked, I am reminded of you both. I call you, message you, remember you and want to be with you. All the discussions we had, all the delicious dishes that you prepared, all the gifts that I received, all the comfort that I get run through my memory. I get sentimental and emotional, and long for your embrace. I am reminded of all the responsibilities that I have as a son, and I even feel the need to fulfill them.

And then it happens. I get comfortable. Situation starts looking fine again. Hope comes in, fear moves out, growth takes place of frustration, friends are all around, love gets kinder and the Work-hours reduce.

I yearn for fun and “meaning” of my life. It is OK to let go of a few responsibilities especially those related to you both. I start spicing up my life. I start taking you for granted. I forget to call you. The “engagement” at home reduces. I can barely understand your language because of the “generation-gap”. I find you overly cautious and uncool. When you wake me up at 9, I can’t find one good reason for that.

And then the cycle repeats itself. My life changes and with the changes come newer challenges, depressions, sorrows, betrayals, hopelessness, frustrations, fear and work. And I am again reminded of all the comforts I had when I was with you. I feel guilty of not obeying you. I feel guilty that I spent more time in front of my laptop than sitting and talking with you. I feel guilty that I could have been a better son.

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