Like every other year, I was short of ideas. I always wanted to make the most productive resolutions for the New Year. I am great at business ideas, I am good at inventing new recipes in the kitchen, but I don’t know what happens when it comes to resolutions.

I asked my friends about theirs. One of them said he would stop eating tobacco, one had promised to launch his start-up this year and the others do not believe in resolutions at all. I don’t eat tobacco or cigarette, I am the CEO of my company and I am a hardcore believer of resolutions. No hope here. I felt like drowning. A few days back, my wife said that we should make most of the first day of the year because the whole year follows it. I promised her that we would spend it the most memorable way, the most ‘perfect’ way.

I had to do something about the resolution thing!

‘Help me out. I am looking for resolution ideas!’ I updated my social media status.

My aunt asked me to shift to my hometown, my friends had other rubbish ideas, but I wished to murder the ones who told me to become ‘nicer’ or ‘kinder’ or to ‘love more’. Come on! I am nice enough and I am kind enough to the world. Is that even a valid resolution?

I realized there was no luck in asking anyone anything. Maybe I had to spend this year too without an aim. Little did I know that this first day of the year had different plans for me.

 I woke up to my ringing phone. It was 8 in the morning.

“Good morning, beta.” It was my mother.

“Mummy! Why did you wake me up early in the morning? Don’t you know it’s my holiday today? I would have slept till late. You just ruined my day!!” I was yelling, almost.

“Are beta, I am so sorry. I just wanted to wish you a happy new year.”

“Whatever. I will call you after breakfast.” I hung up not caring about her reply.

It soiled my mood. Neera was probably in the kitchen. She came running to the bedroom upon hearing me shout.

“What happened, Durjan? Who was it?” she asked.

“Mummy.” I was upset.

“It’s okay. Sleep some more.”

“No, I am done.” I stood up and went into the bathroom.

A little later, Neera and I were on the breakfast table.

“It was a moment of the past. I think you should bring her back home.” she said in a serious tone.

“What do you mean? I am doing it wrong? She is safe in an old age home, not in a jail!” I was yelling again.

“She does not deserve a jail. You know what happened that night.”

“Yes, I know. She was to take care of Appu. She had one job!!” the innocent face of Appu, my little daughter, came in front of my eyes. She got lost. Nobody knows where.

“But it was not mummy’s fault. She is an old lady, she had a habit of sleeping at 9. We were late. It was 12 when we returned.” Neera justified. We had never discussed this matter before.

 “So, what? Bringing her back home will bring our Appu back?”

“Is keeping her away making it any better?” she was firm, a picture of her that I don’t usually see.

“Yes it is. I cannot stand her. Not after all this.”

“Wasn’t she there from the day when you first stood on your feet till the day you actually stood on your feet? I know it was not easy for us. It was not easy for her too. Now, she is alone there.”

“There are other old people around. And, why are you supporting her? Have she started calling you, moulding you?” I was not sounding sensible and I knew.

“Not moulded, but she had shaped me. She taught me your favourite dishes. She taught me to take care of a baby. She wanted to make Appu stronger than you.”

“Rubbish. I don’t want to talk about it. Finish off your works soon, we will leave for lunch at 1.” I walked away. I knew what I was doing. I kept myself busy in office homework.

It was time. We drove to the Rajasthani restaurant for lunch. It is my favourite spot to go on holidays. I was thinking about the lovely food we were going to have. My mood had started getting better. I tried to forget the morning brawl and kept up the smile.

We entered the restaurant. Most of the tables were occupied because it was the new year day. I ran my eyes through the hall to find a good seat when I saw an old woman sitting alone on the corner most table. She looked pretty much like my mother, but a lot older. That’s when I remembered that I told mummy that I would call her after breakfast. I quickly killed the thought as I found an empty table near the centre.

But... “This way, Sir.” The manager guided us to that very corner table.

When we got closer, I realised that the old lady was no one else but mummy. She had aged so much in a short time- I thought in my head. Her face was full of wrinkles, a lot more than I last met her. The smile added to the curves of her skin. Yes, she was smiling but I was not. I glared at Neera.

“You did this?” I asked standing near the table. She was silent.

“Sit beta, you both look really good.” Mummy said. I gave way for Neera to sit in front of mummy, then I sat beside Neera. I was not looking at mummy. But my eyes were craving to look at her, her grown wrinkles and her white hair.

 “How are you, mummyji?” Neera asked.

“I am good, beta. We don’t have things to do there. So, I made this halwa for you both today.” She passed a box towards me. I took it and kept it on the table.

“I am yet to make a halwa as good as yours, mummyji.” Neera was trying to impress her or something. It was out of my understanding.

“But, your kheer is my favourite. Uh... was my favourite. S-sorry.” Mummy lowered her head when I glanced at her. “Durju, I feel so happy to see you both after so long. Have you started colouring your hair?”

“Yes. Now, please order the food Neera, I am hungry.” It was getting more awkward for me.

 We finished eating. I was silent the whole time. Only Neera and mummy exchanged a few thoughts. Instances of the past came running in front of me. Things that she said often, how she saved me from the tuitions, how I slept in her arms every night – came in my mind in flashes. I pacified with time. I would not say that I became comfortable, but her presence was okay for me now.

The waiter kept the bill on the table and left.

“Durju, isn’t this the shirt that your ex-boss gifted you? But you know what will look even better with this grey shirt? This blue cardigan that I knit for you.” She had bought another gift for me. Why?

I was staring at her.

“I worked extra long yesterday to complete it. I had to. I started learning to knit in March. It was my resolution for this year. And you know that breaking resolutions is not my thing.”

I was still staring at her. How could she? After all the negativity, after all the anger that I showed her, how could she work the year long for me? Every moment of Appu’s absence made me hate her more and more. My belief in destiny made me soothe my sorrow soon but the ego made me keep the grudge on my mother. I knew all this time, that it was not solely her fault. But I hated her.  

But she, she made me her resolution. Not thinking about how wrong it was on my part to give up on her and leave her on her own. Papa left her suddenly too, without an explanation. She did not complain. I left her too, she did not complain. I suddenly felt very guilty. My eyes were wet. I could see her eyes twinkling a little more too. I was her resolution. And maybe it was my time to return the gesture.

“You are coming home with us today.” I said. Neera grabbed my hand and we smiled.

This year, I unknowingly created two resolutions for myself. One- I would never let my past control my present. Two- My mother is my root, my nourishment. I will never leave her side, I will be her nourishment from now on.

Maybe it was destiny, maybe it was karma. But, the first day of this year went just how my wife and I wanted it to be- PERFECT.   

Oh the weather outside is frightful
But the fire is so delightful
And since we've no place to go
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

It was very late at night when I finished my freelance assignment. I finally shut my desktop down and switched off the charger. When I attempted to stand, the lack of sensation in my legs made me remember that I was not an average person anymore. The sudden jerk channelled a sharp pain through my spine. I sat down in disappointment. Paraplegia destroyed my simple but happy life. And now, I was nothing more than a piece of load for my wife and daughter. I was not used to this immobility yet. It was only 28 days after I got discharged from the hospital. Day by day, only the physical pain was fading, not the mental.

“It’s Christmas, papa!” said my little one the next morning. After the accident, there was not a single day when she came running and hugged me from behind. Not a single day when I snatched the TV remote from her and we ran around in the house. Not a single day that we spend the night eating and sleeping in the living room itself. She could not. I could not.

“Papa!!” her yell brought me back into reality.

“Yes, beta. Merry Christmas to my Taani.” I said when she came and kissed me on my forehead. I felt like a kid, and she my guardian.

“Merry Christmas! Get up now, I have made your arrangements in the bathroom.” she instructed. She could have asked me for presents but she did not. She could have done her make-up while singing in front of the mirror but she did not. She could have spent her Christmas morning with her friends but she did not. I knew I was the reason.

It doesn't show signs of stopping
And I've bought some corn for popping
The lights are turned way down low
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

Daily activities which took no time were now hefty jobs for me. Sometimes, the urge to stand and walk and run made me cringe to frustration. Everybody said that I was not good with patience. I should have learnt to keep some when I was not abnormal. Now, it felt impossible. I tried my best to look composed every time.

As I came out of the bathroom on the wheelchair, my wife Ranjee was standing with a wrapped box and a face full of grin.

“Merry Christmas, Jay.” she said, handing me the box. She had bought me a present. But, why? Wasn’t I who was supposed to buy my family presents?

“You bought me a gift! This was not needed, biwi.” I said to her.

“A gift is not a need, a gift is a gift!” she proudly declared with a wide smile.

It was a red t-shirt. “Red is the colour of Christmas and red is the colour of love.” she was almost jumping. “I love you!” she said quickly and ran away.

How sweet it was of her. And I couldn’t even thank her. She has always been loving and innocent. Can she handle every one of us in the long run? What should I do to help her when I am the one in need?

I needed assistance in everything that I did and Ranjee & Taani were totally affected by it. I had to quit my day job and find a work-from-home job. This directly put pressure on Ranjee financially. Taani spent her time at home helping me in petite works. The guilt was eating me bit by bit.

When we finally kiss good night
How I'll hate going out in the storm!
But if you'll really hold me tight
All the way home I'll be warm

Ranjee and Taani were busy in the kitchen. I was staring at the TV screen mindlessly. The sudden sound of falling utensils made me realise that I was watching cartoon. I tried to grab the remote but it was kept out of the reach of my hand. I tried to lean, I tried to stand, but could not. I wheeled my chair inside to work a little and to keep myself busy. The charger got stuck in the chair wheel and came out of the plug. I knew I could not plug it in myself.  

I was getting irritated with my state. I wanted to end it. I made up my mind instantly. I knew that the best way to end everything was to end me. I just needed an opportunity and a chest full of guts.

‘Never miss an opportunity’ my father used to say. I wheeled my chair slowly towards the cupboard. I opened it all by myself and started looking for the packet of blades that I bought last month. My hands were not shivering, I was not nervous. I knew that it was for the best. I searched, I frantically searched.

“Jay!” Ranjee’s abrupt call frightened me.

 “Yes!”

“By the time I set up our dinner, could you help Taani in maths?” Ranjee asked.

I regained the lost consciousness in a go. “Yes, why not?” I was good at it. We sat and worked. And finished her homework soon in the afternoon itself.

“Thanks, papa. What would I do without you?” said Taani and went into her room.

This unattended question made me think way beyond what I was considering. What would they do without me? My mind flashed scenes with worn out faces of both Ranjee and Taani crying in front of my picture frame. I pushed those flashes aside. Something changed in me. Maybe, the storm was subsiding. Maybe, I crossed the storm successfully. Maybe, I won.

The fire is slowly dying
And, my dear, we’re still goodbying
But as long as you love me so
Let It Snow! Let It Snow! Let It Snow!

It was a holiday and we spent the day lazing around, watching TV and eating junk together. We watched ‘The Valentine’s Day’ movie on the Christmas Day. I wore the gifted red t-shirt in the evening. We were together. We smiled, we laughed. It was just like any holiday. My inability did not matter anymore. A gush of positivity ran through me right when the church bell rang. I smiled.

“Take me to the carols tonight.” I told Ranjee.

“Sure, we all are going.” she was smiling with me.

“Yaayyy, finally papa has got a wish!” Taani was highly cheerful that night.

We reached the church gate. I wheeled myself inside and we all sat to pray. The moments of silence and the festive day taught me some great life lessons. Difficult times are to be fought with full spirit and faith. Family is not about perfections; but about accepting the imperfections and still be happy. Family is the ultimate strength, the anchor to life as long as we are here. And not to forget, Christmas can set anything and everything right.

'Let It Snow' is a song written by lyricist Sammy Cahn which is widely played during Christmas as a carol. 

Youth. That day, when my senses woke up into a new morning, I saw a gloomy picture of myself in the mirror. My eyes had swelled from crying the whole night. I had a real bad sleep, flipping here and there, thinking and rethinking the same thought; thinking of the possibilities that could occur if I too did something valuable for my town like he did.

I kept the unwelcomed thoughts aside and quickly dressed up, as I heard continuous hymns of people. I stepped out of my home and encountered a crowd, a real crowd. The road was full of people walking with mourns and tears, with the same anger that I was feeling right then. I joined them and headed towards the square to salute his efforts, to raise a voice against his killing and mainly to take a step that had kept my mind shrinking from the time he was gone.

Security officer. All these years, serving in the town as a government servant, I had faced a lot of protests, strikes and what not. But no difficulty can ever be comparable to the one of that morning; because fighting an armed enemy is way easier than controlling an armless mob. From the previous night, we were prepared that the next morning would be challenging for us.

As soon as I woke up, I prayed to God for strength to fight the situation that was to come next. I wore my uniform and stepped out for my workplace early. We were all ready with our arm guns, rifles and armour to control all the anger of the town. A day before, looking at the mob, a thought hit me badly. A directionless youth of this country, a militant who was killed in encounter, was receiving mourns of two lakh people, was rewarded with gun salute and was becoming history in the name of bravery for a huge number of people; things I was never going to get even after serving the town... all these years.

Militant. From the last three years, the time I pledged to fight for our people and our rights; I had an inspiration from an unconventional courage and a brilliant mind. Being our leader in such a young age, he had commanded and delivered actions that can never be thought without him. He had generated a flame in our hearts and minds that was burning high inside us from that day when we were biding him to God and would be burning for the rest of our lives to serve our purpose of living.

That morning was a sleepless, yet awakening one for most of the younger ones of our town. While we tribute our leader for his sacrifice, I saw people and more people all over my sight praying for our hero. I was sad that he left us that soon. It wasn’t his time to go. I promised him there at his coffin not to rescue his murders. At the same time, I was relieved to find people showing anger for the same. He had served his purpose then and there.

Civilain. Surviving in this town had always been tough. But that day captured all of us to a frame where many of us didn’t belong. I was born and brought up here with curfews, protests, attacks, strikes, shutdowns and killings. Everything till that day had maintained a distance from me. But that day, when I saw people coming out on roads, when I saw a fellow civilian setting a vehicle on fire, I knew that it was going to trap all of us.

My exams were rescheduled; I couldn’t move out of my house due to the protest. At the same time, I couldn’t sit at home and watch the show. It was my town, my neighbourhood and my freedom that was on stake, from the time I was born till date. I had to at least participate with the ones who were fighting.

Media. For the last few days, I felt the way dead people must be feeling; like how it would feel to release your body and be invisible. I was there, I knew everything, I had the rights to say, I could speak up, but there was no one to listen. That day, when he had been killed, I reached the spot with my team to cover the whole incident. I couldn’t see the killing, but I witnessed everything afterwards. From more than two lakh people mourning for a late twenty two years old militant, to the never ending protest between the armless civilian and the armed security.

By the time he was killed, mobile internet, telephone services, newspapers, media was pulled off air. More than twenty five days of our work was hampered. The curfew implemented in the entire district, got removed and was imposed again. The civilians protested against the killing by stone pelting, strikes and setting buildings & vehicles on fire. The police and armed forces defended by the pellet guns, teargases and rifles. The government bodies asked civilians to keep calm. With the death poll rising from two to eighty five and thousands of civilians getting injured every day, I stood there, in a total blackout.

Youth. The path of sacrifice had never been easy and I guessed that to be the reason of all my second thoughts. But days went by and the gloomed picture got stinks of hatred. Public safety act- they called it. Public, we, our town, had been victims of the inhumanity. One from the public was that aged man in my neighbourhood who lost his eyes due to buckshot. One from the public was that five year old girl who got wounded from pellet shot. And one from the public was him, who lost his life fighting for this public.

Public safety act- they called it. Then who was safe in that entire chaos? And what we even meant for them? Nothing. Not the public but the district that they were protecting or authorising, not the public but the beauty of our state was their interest, and with this, all my second thoughts were gone. I pledged to serve- the way he did. At last, I did clear the picture.

Security officer. But then I thought. It wasn’t my job to sit and think about public reactions, about the media allegations or the political accusations. My job was to kill any type of nuisance in the town. I was pretty much doing that on my part or at least was trying to do to the fullest without caring about my whole life, my family and my home.

I waved the emotions and remembered the pledge of my service. I pulled my gun on, took my armour and started controlling the mob. The nation needed an action. The town needed a reaction. So, all I did was to keep going. My work had to go on.

Militant. All I had to do was to keep his work going and punish the enemies. My courage boosted when our youth valued his sacrifice and joined us in huge number. We, together, had fought against the armed forces and we still were fighting. They would be defeated and would move out of our state to the place they belong, to their country.

Our God was blessing us with exposing other brains towards our thoughts. Our commander had now created a revolution- sacrificing his life in the path of freedom. And our people were protesting with us against the outsiders for our rights. There was no one to stop us now. We all united to serve our purpose. I could now sense freedom coming in the air of the town.

Civilain. I finally decided what to do and joined the mob. But! There, I stuck. I stood there paused. What I could see around me was war. I stood out to speak but no one was actually saying or listening. We were shouting. And when one of us set a police station on fire, the officers in uniforms were right after us. I ran. I ran fast for my life. All these years that had passed in militarization- I knew one thing that, the officers- they would never listen.

I ran long till I reached the bank of the river. I stopped, turned back to see the uniforms. I swallowed my own breathe and jumped into the river. I stayed there for long waiting for the security forces to clear by. After a while, I dared to swim upwards to the bank. I found no one. There was no one in uniform. I sighed in relief, and as I was walking towards the town, I noticed my reflection in river. But wait! It was not moving with me. It was floating. Yes! My body, it seemed dead.

Media. When I looked for conclusion, my pen dropped no ink. It’s hard to find who was wrong and where. Breaking the law and being a rebel to your country was wrong but inhumanity could never be an answer for that. There would always be a source that set fire; it would be as tiny as a matchstick or as big as bomb blast.

Why we needed to punish the civilian to safeguard them and why civilians had to fight security to end an ongoing war? Who gave us the right to act inhuman to regulate the law and order and why? Who decided our purpose of living? And who was the first, who thought violence would be a way to put things right?

It was 11 p.m. and Chikki and Dadi had just finished dinner.

“Dadi, please tell a story tonight!” the little girl said with eyes full of anticipation.

“Acha? You are in mood of a story today, Chikki?” Dadi had no other choice.

“Yeeesss! It has been years that Papa let me stay with you overnight! Who will the story be about?”

“Umm... You will know that later.” Dadi wanted it to be memorable.

“Noooo Dadi, tell now!”

“Listen to the story, and you will have to guess yourself!”

“Oh....Okay!!” Chikki settled between two pillows.

“Long long ago... There was once a country with two lands, a superior one and an inferior one. The superior part of the country had the power of military and ruling. In the inferior land, there lived a young boy who was very depressed with his life.”

“What is this young boy’s name?” Chikki interrupted.

“Oh! Let’s say, he is Ram. And he was a handsome young guy.”

“Heheh, okay!” Chikki giggled.

Dadi continued, “Ram was not very good at studies and passed his college with a low score. It became tough for him to land into a good job. He tried his luck and applied to many big and small companies, but failed every time. Some said he was not worth it, some politely refused. After losing hopes with the corporate world, he tried and managed to get himself a low paying job at the market at his town. But it seemed that Ram’s career was not blessed with good fortune. Because soon, he had to leave that job too.”

“Haw! Why?” she was curious.

 “Because the boss believed in the superiority of the other part of the country and Ram was powerless.”

“But they were the part of the same country.” said Chikki and smiled.

“Yes, but the differences in power remained which made Ram and his fellow insecure. The people who supported the superiority were not helpful towards the inferiors. Tension grew with growing fights between the two groups of people.”

“But Dadi, why were they fighting?

“The inferiors were exploited by the superiors before and the fear persisted in their minds. Who likes to live under dominance within their homeland?”

Chikki nodded her head in refusal.

“So gradually, they formed a state of unrest within their own country. Every other day, people witnessed fights, mockery and scorn. Ram’s father, his only family, was a teacher. He used to advice Ram not to get himself into these brawls. One day, the inferiors were encouraged by activists to fight for their individuality against the superior power.”

 “Oh, wow! Then?”

“Hmm... Here, the inferiors began their fight for Independence. They started resisting the laws enforced by the superiors. But in reaction, something terrible happened. Getting protested by the inferiors, the superiors attacked them. They started a massive series of killing and harassing the inferiors. Ram was affected too. Ram’s father got himself killed while trying to save a few neighbours. Ram saw horrible things in front of his eyes. He had no other option but to leave his abode, his town, his country. Around 10 million people came flooding into an allied country, our India, for shelter and to wait for the issue to resolve.” Dadi kept it simple for Chikki.

“Oohhh. India! Wow. See? India is so useful!”

“Yes, indeed.  India supported the inferiors and his countrymen. The incoming refugees were scared, sad and tired. Some had lost their family, some had lost their homes and some lost hope and killed themselves. A situation of this kind was not easy to handle. Food and shelters were arranged for them without second thoughts. A huge team of freedom fighters were being appointed to fight against the superior army. Ram tried and got selected. It was for the first time that he got appointed to a job in one go. He was very moved with the changes that were happening around. In the meantime, Ram made many friends in this patron country. One of them was a little more closer to him than others.”

“What was this friend’s name?” asked Chikki.

“Umm... Shyam!” said Dadi.

“Okay. I could have guessed.”

“So, Ram and Shyam spent most of the time together. Shyam was a military person of this country. Sometimes, Shyam used to show Ram the places around and tell stories of Indian soldiers. Sometimes, they both watched news on the TV only to get disappointed upon how the superiors were still threatening the inferiors in Ram’s homeland. It made them even more determined to fight, to win.”

“Ohhh.” Chikki was getting engaged.

Dadi looked at the clock. It was 11.35 p.m.

“Then, then, then? Tell!” yelled Chikki.

“Oh, yes! So, a few months went by. They all were in the process of war training. And one day, the superiors attacked various sites in India which were close to the border.”

“What! Why India?”

“Because, we were helping the refugees.” cleared Dadi.

“Oooh. But Dadi, isn’t this just a story?”

“It is, for now. Listen.... The alarms were rung. Wasting no more time, the team of freedom fighters were set to fight the superiors for once and for all. And guess what?”

“What? We won!? Yes, we did! Didn’t we?” Chikki was wide awake.

“Yes, we did! Because we were stronger, resolute and we were on the good side. We had no internal gluttony for land or money in return of supporting the inferiors. Sometimes a decisive action must be taken on moral grounds for what is legit and what is not. And sometimes, it’s all about friendship, a good bond...... Here, is the end of the story.”

“Wow. This is not a moral that I expected. I liked the story.”

“I know.” said Dadi, smiling.

“But what happened to Ram and Shyam!?” Chikki remembered.

DIIINNGG! The door bell interrupted Dadi’s reply.

“Dadu is here!” yelled Chikki.

She ran to open the door. Dadu with another old man came inside. The other man was holding a big box which looked like a cake.

“Sunil Uncle, is this a cake? Is it your birthday?”

Dadi looked at the clock again. It was 11.50 p.m. She got up and went up to Dadu.

“How was the dinner?” she asked.

“Lovely, as always!” replied Dadu with a wide smile.

“Come, I will set the table.” Dadi took the cake from Sunil and opened it up on the table.

“Whose birthday is it?” Chikki was still confused.

Dadi fixed two candles on the cake and lighted them.

‘CHEERS- TO FRIENDSHIP, TO VICTORY, TO MUKTI BAHINI’ was written on the cake, like every year.

“Mukti Bahini?” Chikki had read this somewhere before. “Isn’t Mukti Bahini written on Dadu’s badge that he is wearing?” she looked closer. She was right.

“Yes, Chikki. Now let’s cut the cake or the candles will melt!”

“Yayyy!”

Together, they enjoyed the cake and made vows of staying together on this day till their deaths- something that the three did each year.

Chikki suddenly remembered, “Dadi!!! You did not tell me about Ram and Shyam.”

“Ram and Shyam? Who?” asked Dadu.

“Dadi told me a story about Ram and Shyam. Tell, Dadi! What happened to them?” Chikki asked.

“They are sitting right next to you, the extracts of Mukti Bahini and the Military Army!”