For thirteen days, Keshav’s home had witnessed a flurry of activities. Relatives, neighbours, and friends visited every day, carrying memories of Parimala, who was loved by all.

Now that the ceremonies were over, a solemn quiet pervaded the house. Priya and Kavita, the daughters, had extended their stay.

“Akka, I plan to leave next week. What about you?” Priya sat cross-legged on the floor, sorting Amma’s wardrobe, re-living precious memories each item brought. “Do you want this saree?”

“I’ll stay a bit longer. You take it, I know you love this one, Amma’s engagement saree.” Kavita ran her fingers over a pair  of bangles and sighed. “Appa left the window open again last night.”

“Is he… forgetting things?”

“May be… or maybe he is still struggling to accept that she is gone.” Tears slid down her cheeks, “she was with him for 55 years.”

“I wish he would move in with either of us. I don’t want him to be alone.”

“I’m not alone.” Keshav stood in the doorway. “Your Amma is here with me. Don’t you smell the jasmine?” The sisters stared at each other, speechless. However, Appa turned around and left before they could say anything.

A week later Priya left. But before leaving, as the sisters hugged each other, Kavita whispered. “Priya, we haven’t bought jasmine since Amma’s cremation. Yet the fragrance…”

Oblivious to their worries, Keshav sat on the flat wooden swing, sipping filter coffee from the tumbler engraved with Parimala’s name, humming Alaipayuthe kanna —her favourite song.

The months slipped by. When the daughters returned with their children for the summer vacation, a soothing aroma of jasmine lingered in the air, faint notes of a familiar humming was heard at all times, and the living room window remained ajar.

At nights, Keshav narrated stories to the little ones, just the way Parimala used to. There were nights when Priya smiled hearing Amma’s soft giggles or Kavita’s eyes turned misty when she felt her mother’s warm hands caressing her wavy hair.

By the end of summer, they stopped questioning Appa’s belief. It was easier and comforting to believe Appa was not alone.

A year later, the family returned for Parimala’s first death anniversary. They were not surprised to find the window open, despite the chill in the air.

Once the rituals finished, Appa embraced his daughters, “You both are God’s greatest blessings to us.”

He held his sons-in-law’s hands, saying nothing. Yet, his unsaid words conveyed everything. Pride, love, and affection.

“We promised we would never leave each other. In life and in death, Amma kept her word.” He paused, his voice barely a whisper, “but now… it’s time. For me to keep my promise. ”

 “What do you mean?” Priya’s anguished voice echoed, even as the others exchanged confused glances.

“We can shut the window now,” he smiled.

The night melted into silence. When the first light of dawn brushed the skies, the window of Keshav household stayed shut.

Only to remain unopened forever.