“It has been almost a year since mother died. I do not know if she died of old age or of illness. Towards the end of her life, she has started eating less. She remained quiet and neglected work. I knew she did not have the strength of her youth. The difficult life she has led took a toll on her and ultimately she gave up breathing. Without her, life feels strange. She left me alone to take care of my father and my brother. I cook for them and I do the dishes. I also wash their clothes every few days. And in between the house chore when I get a chance to straighten my back I think of the time I spent with mother. The things she said. It all comes back like she is still here. “Daughter, here, wear this. Daughter, here, eat this.” She had even started planning my marriage. “When you get married, do not forget your mother. You will visit me every once a week, won’t you?” These memories are difficult to hold and talk about. After mother things have changed. I am the only one in the house to take care of my father and my brother. And even if I get married someday, who is going to attend to the needs of the men in the family. They need me just like they needed my mother.”