Mother Dear 3

My mother is no more.The gut-wrenching sense of loss can neverb e conveyed through these three words. My mother,the source of my life, the root from which I sprung, whose mere presence gave colour  and laughter to my life,is gone and with her is gone the little Rini in her red,silk frock,the slightly older Rini  cycling down to St.Agnes wearing an uniform without belt(sister remarked,Sulekha, you look like a baker)Rini in college ,confiding to MA-they are all gone into oblivion.Rini,as she was,in her childhood,does not exist any more for she had been etched in the memory of her father  and mother and with t  hem gone Rini is gone too.

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