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The Broken Suitcase


My mother had bought a set of three suitcases for me but she gave only one  on my Bidai. I never asked her, why didn't you give me those two suitcases. Like, I never asked, why didn't she give me many more things when I left her house. She might have forgotten. Or perhaps she never supposed to give. And that's okay.
All I want to tell you is, a girl subconsciously thinks about how she left her house and what she left behind. I think about what I brought with me : A broken suitcase.
One among two suitcases which I brought with me was slightly broken. I didn't notice at first. But somehow I realized there is something terribly wrong with this ritual of 'Giving'. I tried to care less about what they gave. They cared less too. And therefore that suitcase was neither repaired nor exchanged and was always ignored.
Oh did I tell you, I have a lovely daughter who will be getting married soon. I have already begun to  pack things for her. One box is already full with evergreen sarees, suit materials, home furnishings, jewelry boxes, diaries, craft items which she loves and so much more. Although she never shows any interest in these things. I keep pestering her with my questions like 'what else do you want?' or 'what would you love to have in your things?' She asks me with awe, 'WHY! Why do you so much worry?' I want to tell her about the voices which have been haunting me but I do not say anything and pray that she does not inherit them from me.
But she inherited the same void. This voice haunts her too, 'I never asked for anything but why didn't you care?' May be not for the stuff or warmth or feel, may be for something else, something which you can not always fix.
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