“Nikhil, Let's go. All are waiting for you.” Saurav peeked into Nikhil’s cubicle.
Nikhil forced a smile. “Just coming…”
It was his birthday—a day he faced each year with quiet dread. The cheerful spotlight, the enthusiastic claps, the forced smiles in group selfies—all of it made him deeply anxious. Though he was known as the kind, dependable soul of the office, he never truly believed he deserved the admiration he received.
Beneath his warm demeanour lay a persistent sense of inadequacy. He constantly measured himself against others and came up short in his own eyes—never smart enough, never confident enough. While his colleagues genuinely loved and respected him, their excitement around his birthday only intensified the pressure he felt. The idea of being the centre of attention was suffocating.
What troubled him even more was the affection people showered on him. He carried a quiet fear that their love was fragile—that the moment they saw through his self-perceived flaws, it would vanish. Being celebrated felt less like joy and more like a test he was terrified of failing.
“Why do everyone love me? They might stop loving me if they come to know that I am not as good as them.” he often thought.
Nikhil had left home when he was just in Class Two. The warmth of his mother’s lap was replaced by the cold, unfamiliar walls of a hostel. Each night, he would bury his face in the pillow and whisper softly, “Mom... can I come back home?”
Being separated from his parents at such a tender age left a deep mark on him. It made him timid, hesitant, and emotionally fragile. In class, he shied away from participating in group activities—not out of disinterest, but because of a quiet belief that he wasn’t good enough. That sense of inferiority followed him like a shadow.
Though he possessed a sharp and curious mind, his heart remained fixated on his family. The constant ache of longing and the absence of a nurturing presence at home dulled his focus. His performance at school remained average—not because he lacked ability, but because his thoughts were always drifting back to the warmth and love he had left behind.
Years rolled by. Nikhil completed his MBA and secured a job with a reputed company in Hyderabad. On the surface, life looked settled—but the emptiness inside him never faded.
For the past eighteen years, he had lived away from home, returning only during school or college vacations. These short visits were the only times he felt whole again. After joining his job, he made it a point to visit his hometown almost every month. But now, due to the demands of his private-sector job, his visits rarely lasted more than two or three days. Long leaves were a luxury he couldn’t afford. Still, he longed for home with the same desperation as a parched traveller seeks water.
“I need a job in my hometown,” he once confided in his friend Ankit.
Ankit burst out laughing, “Are you serious? There's no career in that small town, man. You'll be throwing everything away.”
Despite being away from home for the past eighteen years, Nikhil has never truly come to terms with it. Deep down, he knows that for the sake of his career, he has no choice but to stay in a big city where opportunities exist. But this understanding does little to ease his restlessness. Peace continues to elude him whenever he's away from home.
For nearly two decades, he's carried the same weight in his heart—the feeling that he’s living away from his real life just to earn a living. Most of his life has been spent distant from those he loves the most. There’s a constant void, a quiet ache reminding him that the true joys of life—family, belonging, warmth—are missing.
He often feels as if he's separated from life’s most precious gifts. The distance from his family has created a disconnect that no professional achievement can fill. This inner conflict has taken a toll on his work life too. Once full of potential, he now finds himself slipping into mediocrity, becoming just another average performer in the office.
Losing his father made everything heavier. Since that day, the idea of staying away from home became almost unbearable. His mother now lived alone, and with all his siblings scattered across different cities for work or studies, the weight of responsibility pressed harder on Nikhil’s heart. The guilt of not being there for her, of leaving her to navigate life alone, only deepened his loneliness.
Then, in March 2021, the television screens screamed: “Nationwide lockdown in 3 days. All transport services to be suspended.”
Without wasting a second, Nikhil booked the earliest flight available.
“Mom is alone… If I don’t leave now, she’ll be stuck there by herself, and I won’t be able to reach her,” he thought anxiously.
His siblings also hurried back home. For the first time in years, the house was alive again—with voices, clinking utensils, and the comforting rhythm of shared laughter.
“You’re all here… it finally feels like home again,” his mother said, gently caressing Nikhil’s head.
Then came an unexpected blessing—two years of working from home.
“It’s like a dream I never thought would come true,” Nikhil smiled to himself, savouring the peace he had long yearned for.
Nikhil felt overwhelmed by the unexpected blessing that life had offered him—a chance to live under the same roof with his mother and siblings, surrounded by warmth and familiarity. These days were filled with quiet joy. But beneath that happiness, a silent fear gripped his heart.
“What if someone in the family gets infected with COVID? How will I handle it? And if Mom falls ill… with her age, will I be able to manage?”
These thoughts haunted him.
He tried his best to push such dark worries out of his mind. But whenever the thought of his mother’s illness even briefly crossed his mind, his entire being seemed to freeze. It was like the world came to a standstill.
Ever since his father passed away, he had lived with a growing dread—that if something were to happen to his mother, the family would fall apart.
“Our world will collapse,” he often thought.
Even by accident, if the idea of losing her entered his mind, he felt completely numb—unable to imagine functioning, unable to think of even performing her last rites. The mere thought left him emotionally paralyzed.
Yet, every morning brought comfort. He and his family would start the day with a warm cup of chai, sharing conversations about the neighbourhood, politics, and fond memories from his childhood. In those quiet moments, life felt whole again.
As time passed, the number of COVID-19 cases began to decline, and eventually, the lockdown was lifted. Life slowly returned to the streets, and people stepped out of their homes with cautious relief.
Nikhil, too, embraced the change. Every morning, he would take out his bicycle and roam through the lanes of his small hometown, soaking in its charm like never before. He visited places he had never bothered to explore earlier—hidden corners, quiet mohallas, buzzing markets, and narrow lanes. With each ride, the town began to feel more like his own. Familiarity turned into affection. He now knew the city by heart, not just through maps but through memories.
Each morning began with a simple but cherished ritual—he would wake up early, prepare tea for himself and his mother, and the two would sit together, sipping warmth and sharing quiet conversations. These were moments he had longed for all his life.
Nikhil now understood the true value of time spent with loved ones. A quiet thought often crossed his mind—there may come a day when these faces, these voices, might no longer be around. And so, he made a silent promise to himself: to make the most of every moment, to hold on to the people who mattered, and to never again take this life for granted.
April 2021. The second wave of the coronavirus swept across the country like a storm.
A new variant had emerged—far more lethal, far more unforgiving. In Nikhil’s hometown, the situation turned grim. Nearly every household had someone infected. The fear in the air was thicker than ever before.
Newspapers screamed of the devastation—the virus had overwhelmed the healthcare system. Hospitals were overflowing; there weren’t enough beds for the sick. Crematoriums were stretched beyond capacity, with long queues of bodies waiting for their final rites. Even the basic materials required for funerals had become unaffordable due to soaring demand. For many, performing the last rites had become a financial impossibility.
Tragic images flooded the news—bodies floating in the Ganga and other rivers, abandoned by families who simply couldn’t afford a proper farewell.
Nikhil was terrified. The horror unfolding around him left him sleepless and anxious. He constantly pleaded with his family to stay indoors, to follow safety protocols strictly. Every conversation was filled with caution, every action driven by fear. All he wanted was to keep his loved ones safe—at any cost.
“Beta, I’m feeling a little uneasy,” his mother said softly one morning.
By evening, her fever had spiked. The test result arrived shortly after—COVID positive.
A wave of fear swept through the house. The virus was terrifying enough, but her age made it even more frightening. Everyone in the family knew the risks, though no one said it out loud. Nikhil, trying to mask his growing anxiety, took charge with calm determination. He encouraged everyone to stay hopeful and focused on her care.
For the next fifteen days, the entire family poured their energy into looking after her. Days and nights blurred into one, filled with whispered prayers, steam inhalations, sanitizers, and constant monitoring of oxygen levels. Every cough sent a ripple of panic through the household. And yet, despite their best efforts, her strength began to fade.
Then, one night, she gently closed her eyes—and never opened them again.
The house, once filled with her voice and warmth, fell into a haunting silence.
The walls stared back at him—silent, cold, unrecognizable. Just days ago, these same rooms had felt like heaven. Now, they stood hollow—mere bricks and mortar, stripped of their soul. The corners that once echoed with his mother’s voice calling out, “Nikhil... come here... Nikhil... do this...” now rang with a painful emptiness.
He whispered to himself, “Every time life offers me a sliver of joy… it strikes back with a storm.”
Nikhil felt as though he had lost a part of himself. A deep, aching emptiness settled in his chest. He couldn’t summon the strength to piece himself back together. Life without his parents felt unimaginable. All his life, he had longed to return home—to feel the embrace of his parents again. But now, even while sitting in the same house, he no longer felt at home.
That’s when it hit him—home was never just a place. It had always been their presence. And now, they were gone.
He remembered something a friend had once said while looking at his palm:
“You don’t have the luck to return home.”
Those words now echoed in his mind, again and again. His lifelong yearning to return home had turned into a journey with no destination—an ache that would never truly end.
