To,
The Editors
Subject:- From Dependant to Dependent
'Shut that tablet of yours and let us listen to the song out here!' I shouted.
'Miheer
please.'- Mom
'But-
'
'Please!
Medhavi, do you have any headphones? '
'No.
'
'Miheer?'
'Oh
of course, I do. Here!'
Dad
just smiled.
*
*
*
'
Miheer holds Grandma's hand. Its gonna get tough in here. Medhavi comes with me.'
Its
my turn to grin now.
*
*
*
'This the passport needs to be guarded at all times and costs. No patches, blotches or
tears. Get it?'
"Yep"
I say, holding up the waist pouch. We both smile.
*
*
*
These above incidences tell
something to us. Whether they were real or not, it doesn’t matter. I can’t tell
exactly what was different in these conversations than those some years ago.
But what?
So there’s this one journey that I
have always dreamt about. It’s something like this. I am in the driver’s seat
of our car and my dad is next to me. I take one last turn near our house and
park it. He just smiles. It says a lot. But this dream is still some years
away. What’s missing in me now?
So I have the last
paragraphs been stating irrelevant things. Here’s what it is all about.
In
the age I am now, we are experiencing mental and psychological change. Courtesy
economics, I can say that we are all becoming an asset, not a liability. This
is my letter to the editor. The editors of their, our, lives. Parents, friends,
relatives. My appeal is that you try to understand us. Try to help us in a
special way we need you to. This help will be repaid. In ways, you may not
understand. We need you to help.
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