2/6/25 9:04 PM
Mira found herself standing in the familiar courtyard of her grandmother’s home, nestled in a peaceful Indian village. The warm evening breeze carried the scent of jasmine, and the distant sound of temple bells echoed through the air. She looked around, feeling an overwhelming sense of belonging. There, sitting on a woven cot under the old mango tree, was Amma, her grandmother, dressed in her simple cotton saree, her silver hair neatly tied back.
“My little star,” Amma said, her voice warm and soothing, “why do you look so tired?”
Mira hesitated before answering, “I don’t know, Amma. Everything feels… dull. Like there’s no reason to keep going.”
Amma smiled, rocking gently. “Oh, my dear, I wish I had more time. I wanted to live just a little longer. But even with the days I had, I lived. I truly lived.”
Mira sat beside her, resting her head against her grandmother’s shoulder. “What does it mean to truly live?” she asked.
Amma chuckled. “Living is feeling the cold breeze on your face when you ride in an open cart. It’s the thrill of dipping your fingers in the village pond and realizing how cool the water is. It’s watching a child laugh, savoring a hot plate of freshly made pakoras, or singing along with your favorite old Bollywood song.”
Mira closed her eyes, listening as Amma continued. “Living is about loving your family, teasing your brother, helping someone in need. It’s watching a sunset from the terrace, laughing until your stomach hurts, and yes, even crying over a heartfelt moment in a film.”
“But Amma,” Mira whispered, “what if I don’t have the strength to keep going?”
Amma cupped Mira’s face gently. “Strength is not in never falling, my love. It’s in getting back up. It’s in finding joy even in the smallest things. Life is more precious than any diamond. It’s not about winning prizes or being perfect. It’s about feeling, experiencing, and embracing every moment.”
Tears welled up in Mira’s eyes. “I miss you, Amma.”
“I’m always with you,” Amma said with a gentle smile. “Every time you laugh, every time you feel the wind, every time you let yourself truly live.”
The dream began to fade, and suddenly, Mira woke up. She was back in her apartment in the bustling city, her room still dimly lit by the morning sun peeking through the curtains. The sounds of honking cars and distant chatter filled the air. She sat up, placing a hand on her chest, still feeling the warmth of Amma’s presence.
For the first time in a long while, she stepped out onto the balcony and took a deep breath. The city hadn’t changed, but something inside her had. She decided, at that moment, to start living again—not just existing.
She smiled as she remembered Amma’s words, knowing that life was waiting for her to embrace it once more.
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