9-10 months before dad passed on, crows began visiting our home, in Wadala. My mother would feed them dal rice with ghee. and bread and cheese. They would sit on the window sill and kaw-kaw away till they were fed (and satisfied). Both appa and amma would laugh and say, the pitrus have come for food …

During the funeral ceremonies they turned up in full force.

And, when we moved from Wadala to Bandra, they turned up. I am not sure if they are the same crows. But, they way they have demanded and consumed food is quite like the earlier lot. One in particular, comes in first – i think it is a male – and sits patiently till mom finishes her prayers and feeds him.

Maybe the ancients got it right. Maybe they are our ancestors. Maybe not. I neither have that much faith in myths, nor that much science to argue that. I will take each argument as being from a different frame of reference. But, there is some degree of comfort in little rituals like this. Something soothing for the soul.

Yesterday, mom and I went to the little Ganesha temple in Kantinagar, Andheri (E). Where we had gone for the longest time. It is a small temple with a compassionate priest. I did the shrardh,  with tulsi and gangajal. Non ritualistic, yet full of meaning. For, the first time since he died, i could cry, freely,  for him.

It is four months. It still feels surreal. Loss and death are so much a part of life, yet we speak about it so little. He meant so much to me. He made me strong, by believing in me, having faith, and never ever restricting me because of gender. He had a fantastic sense of humour, and a strength that comes from within. After a terrible day at work, all i had to do was say “appa, hug me” – he would – and the stress would just flow away.

I miss him.