Author: Hurshita Vasudevan

Why do I have to choose? A letter from a daughter to her mother.

Dear mom, This is a confession I was meaning to make for years now, I am in love, for the very first time and I think it might be the last. He is not perfect, he isn’t an engineer or a topper who you would consider to keep as a trophy and show off among all the relatives. He is a gentleman, who would never let me cry alone, Who I enjoy with, Who makes everyday look like a dream, Who consoles me, embraces me and make me laugh even when I am about to cry. You don’t know...

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Happy Mother’s Day!

When I was a baby, who cried in the cradle, you were there to sing me to sleep. Even when you were so tired of everything. As I grew up a bit, and I spilled paint in all your favorite fabric, you smiled and called me an artist, never complaining how you had to work an extra hour to remove all the stains. When I ran so fast in the park, you ran behind me to protect me even though your legs hurt from cleaning all day at home. You always gave me what I wanted and scolded me...

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