unpacking is over, packing begins. 

painful nostalgia and memories beating the colour of the day.

yet another senseless day.

There has been heightened pain about mother on the days of celebration because all that she does on that day is cooking cooking and cooking. 

She held her hands tied down in acts of pleasing and feeding, how i detested it!

 how the festivals were always intolerable for me!

And after long years here when I am a mother, i get calls from her on festive days, haven't you cooked anything for your children? Is it the time you wake them up on such days. i tell her  that i have finally escaped the compulsions of living what i cannot afford to live?