The goodbyes are always hard, and this time it's even harder.

When I landed in Raipur on March 29th, I couldn't help but think about how strange it was to arrive in India without seeing Amma on my sister’s dining table, eagerly awaiting my arrival.

This has been the routine for so many years. The flight would land in the wee hours, and my sisters and brother-in-law would be waiting outside. After collecting my bags and stepping out, our greetings always began with the same statement: "Amma already called twice - Flight nahi aaye kya re , Pragya kahan hai?”(Is flight not on time? Where is she?) During the hour-long drive home, I would talk to her first. Within half an hour, she would call again, asking, "How far are you? Shall I make the tea?" By the time we reached home, she would be all ready, sitting at the table, waiting for me. Hugs, smiles, and a happy Amma awaited.
Today, as I pack my bags, I realize that while arriving without her was difficult, departing without her is even harder. There's nobody to sit and watch our entire shopping and packing drama, nobody to ask, "Ab kab aayegi re?" (When will you come next?) I would always smile and reply, "Amma, I am still here." In the last couple of years, I started saying, "I will come whenever you call."
This time, I didn't have much to pack, but even that felt like a struggle. Her presence lingered in my mind. In the last few years, Papa and Amma hadn't been coming to the airport to drop me off. These midnight trips were becoming increasingly difficult for them. Today, while Papa is in Raipur, I will have to settle for a goodbye through a video call. I will miss those hugs, kisses, tears, and the token gesture of "sang chudoni" (some money as a token of best wishes for travel).
My darling Amma always made sure I felt loved, and she was a significant reason for my trips to India.