Today morning when I was making breakfast, I thought about her. I was making Upma, she was too around 20 years ago. It was the last time she would ever make it.

She got up at 5 or 5.30, as she had done all her life and made breakfast. Upma and boiled banana. She served it to her son, her youngest daughter and daughter in law. Someone asked her why she has a can of kerosene in the kitchen, she replied that she bought it to get something cleaned. She reminded them about the unopened jars of pickles in the fridge. 'You'll need it.' she said. Then they all left. She kissed her unmarried daughter before seeing her off and told her that she was an unlucky child.

Then she was alone in the house. she was seen washing clothes. she chitchatted with her neighbour. 'Why are you looking worried?' she asked the nice Muslim lady.
'This house hold doesn't give me a break. I am always tensed.' The lady replied.
 'Me too..' she told the lady. Then she went inside and apparently started preparing lunch. She grated cabbage and made a stir fry.

Then she kept clean clothes on the bed, like she always did before taking bath. That day however it would stay unworn. She removed the little jewellery she had on her, it would come in handy for the daughters wedding, when ever that would materialize. Then she wrote a small note to one of her sons in law. And then she took bath, with kerosene.

I often wonder about the way she planned all these. Was it really planned? Why did she grate the cabbage and wash the clothes. Did she really wanted to relive the simplicity of  her 57 years one more time?

Often when I'm worried I dream about her. And in my dreams she is always happy.