She Was There… In Every Frame
She Was There… In Every Frame Yesterday, I went to my mamaji’s place—my mom’s coolest brother. It felt like any other visit… normal, casual, nothing unusual. Until… we opened an old wedding album. Time paused. There she was. My mom. Smiling… glowing… alive in those frozen moments. I don’t know what hit me harder— seeing her… or realizing how much I’ve been missing her without even saying it out loud. Every picture felt like a conversation I never got to finish. I kept staring… as if she would blink, as if she would step out of that photograph and say, “Chandika, Kya Kar Rahi Ho?” And then mamaji said something… “You look like your mom .” I smiled… but inside, something broke and healed at the same time. Because what do you do when the person you miss the most lives in your face, your expressions, your silence? You carry them. In your eyes. In your habits. In the way you love… and the way you get angry. I missed her in that moment. Not loudly. Not dram...