The Loss Within the Loss
I lost my father in a car accident just a day after my 10th birthday, 28th September 1988. In the days and years that followed, my mind still carried him in vivid fragments. I could summon his face, the way he walked, the scent of his clothes lingering in the almirah. Scattered moments of his laughter, his jokes, of his dance moves, the way he tied his turban, the way he called my name, would gather themselves into a mosaic of his presence. Memory stitched him together for me, keeping him close, almost within reach. My father loved driving still remember his Car's number plate PB08 4848. Some of my fondest childhood memories are of vacations where he would take us on long drives in that car, keeping it spotless and shining no matter what and where we were, as though it were part of him. It feels deeply ironic, and almost cruel, that the very thing he loved became the cause of his departure from our lives. He wasn’t just important to us, he was a vital part of everyone’s life...
