You gave us so much, no assays, poems, or words can describe. Your mere sight, for us, was keeping us stay young. I grew up quite fast when all my siblings left home, and we were just the three of us (You, Bhabhi, and I), with I being part of all conversations, helping build the house in Ghaziabad, sending money to Raju, collecting rents from Anand Parbat, or taking Bhabhi for treatment in NDLS railway hospital. I came to learn how to run the house with limited pension and rents, what to do in case of medical attention sought for Bhabhi, and how to balance between my studies in Meerut and coming home to Ghaziabad or going to see Bhabhi in the Delhi hospital on the weekends. Now that you are watching us from the heavens, I feel I am being forced to grow up once again and must work even harder towards being in your shoes one day if I have Bhabhi and your blessings with me in the rest of my journey. Being 8 hours car ride, and occasional phone calls away was still comforting and assuring, when you were there, and I felt your presence around me. Now that your physical self has gone far away, this will be very hard to accept any time soon.

You gave us many years. I still, in my selfish thoughts, think they were not enough. You paid your debt from your past and present life to so many, including to your children, grandchildren, friends, and relatives. I wonder how and when I will be capable enough to repay.

The Sharma train has lost the driver (Bhabhi), the guard and a controller-in-chief (Pitaji). Who will keep us, the riders, safe now?