They say a good writer is one who writes about his own experiences, a great one who writes about the experiences of others. I disagree. There’s only with such depth and with such ardent details one can write about the experiences of others, and that’s why I’m going to tell you my story.

CHAPTER 1

“Sam! Get up!”

“Mmmmm”

“Get up, Sam! I’ve been calling you since an hour now. I am leaving for my Yoga class. Get up or you’ll be late, which I am sure you do not want to be.”

“Okay Mom.”

“Breakfast is on the table. Eat it before you leave. I am leaving now. Bye!”

“Mmmm”

The alarm in the phone beeps again. Sam switches it off and gets up, now realizing that it is 9am and there is no way he will make it to the office before 10 if he stays in bed any longer. Hurriedly, he jumps off the bed as if a bee stung him on his leg, and goes to his washroom.

Sam lives in a dainty flat in Dwarka, Sector 3 with his Mother for some eight years now. His father had passed away when he was a boy of two. Sam doesn’t remember much of him. He feels bad for his mother, though. Sometimes, watching her handle everything alone and go about without a companion makes him want to give her everything she ever desires.

“You can marry again, you know. I will not have any problem. Rather, I will appreciate you getting some help and more happiness.” He had told his mother several times, to which she always gave the same reply “All I need is you, Sam. You be good. That’s all I want.”

“Oh damn it!”

The uninvited February rains had graced Sam’s first day to the office while he was just a few blocks away from the destined building. He would have to find a taxi soon. He would hate to show up on the first day of the internship, with his 6ft figure drenched from head to toe. He hadn’t ofcourse, grabbed the breakfast that his mother had so meticulously prepared even though she half-knew he wouldn’t have the time to eat it. She worried for Sam’s boyish attitude the most. “He is the best son!” she would tell almost instantly to anyone asking her if she had trouble with raising a son all on her own, without a father to discipline him. Not that she did not believe it. She believed every ounce of emotion that that sentence could carry. He really was a good son. At the age of 21 he had grown up to be such a wonderful lad. All his worry and care reminded her of his father all the time. Oh, how he used to worry about the minutest of things when it came to her. And, later when they had a beautiful baby boy, he would do no less with his affairs too. Little did he know one day they will have to fight their own worries without him. But Rekha didn’t have much to complain about. Not now when she had made her peace with the horrific car accident. Not anymore when all her struggles seemed to have paid off in terms of how perfect her little boy was growing up to be. She knew that no matter what life throws at them now, she and Sam will find a way.

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