TOMORROW WILL BE ANOTHER DAY
Pic.: Pradeep Nanda T oday is 2 nd Jan. Every 1 st Jan morning, I call my mom to wish her a happy new-year. And, she leaves me with mixed feelings… The New-year in 1983 had come on a Saturday. My dad was 57, then. Despite the meager means at his disposal, he was, to the boot, a fun-loving soul… He dank like a fish, smoked like a chimney… and he sang, danced and made merry like a Brazilian … Yes, to him, ‘tomorrow’ was, always, another-day! So, he had partied hard right through the Christmas week till Saturday, the New-year day. The next day was Sunday. Mom and he both had dressed up to leave for the Sunday mass. But, then, as they were about to leave, dad told my mom that he wasn't feeling good and, hence, to proceed alone for the mass. That’s, really, unusual of him. However, not wanting to be late for the mass, my mom left. When she was home, she found my dad on the same sofa, in the same sitting position… But, he was no more! It was a mas...