The dawn light filters softly through the curtains, illuminating a house that feels profoundly empty. Today is my 65th birthday, yet the weight of my mother’s absence is a heavy shroud that stifles any hint of celebration.

She would have begun the day with a prayer, her melodic voice weaving through the morning air with a sacred song. An artist at heart, she had an exquisite sense of aesthetics that transformed our home into a canvas of creativity. Whether stitching intricate embroidery, drawing with vibrant passion, or singing with a voice that could charm the heavens, her artistic spirit was boundless. Though from an earlier generation, her quick grasp of gadgets was remarkable; her mobile phone and tablet seemed more like extensions of herself than mere devices.

Every birthday was marked by her blessings—a gentle tilak on my forehead, prayers shared over steaming idlis, cups of coffee, and the aroma of fresh gaajar halwa or mysore pak wafting from the kitchen. In solitude, though am not given to much religiosity, I find myself wandering to the small mandir in the corner, its incense lingering like echoes of her love. The absence of her presence resonates louder than the chant of the bells, a reminder that our shared rituals are forever changed.

As I close my eyes, seeking her spirit in the mundane, I remember her keen intellect—her impressive ability to solve daily Sudoku puzzles with a humor that always lightened our heavy days. I can hear her laughter and the way she wielded words like a poet, selecting each one with an artist’s precision. She was also sensitive and also flawed, yet her love for me was a steadfast pillar, perhaps more unwavering than my own for her.

A soft whisper rises within me, “Live, my dear, live,” urging me to honor her legacy. I light the diya in her memory, its flame flickering gently as if reflecting her vibrant spirit. Stepping outside, the vibrant colors of the day greet me, reminiscent of the festivals we celebrated together. I breathe deeply, allowing the warmth of the sun to fill the spaces she once occupied.

Today, I will honor her by embracing life fully, carrying her love in every step. A birthday without her is not devoid of celebration; it is a tribute to the bond that eternally binds us. Amidst the ache of loss, I find solace in the traditions we shared and the artistry she infused into my life, knowing she is always with me.