“To describe my mother would be to write about a hurricane in its perfect power; or the climbing, falling colours of a rainbow.” – Maya Angelou
FIFTEEN YEARS AGO
Jab. Jab. Jab.
Jab. Jab. Jab.
Jab. Jab. Jab.
Ranveer paused, tightened his gloves and corrected his stance before continuing to hit the punching bag.
Jab. Jab. Jab.
Jab. Jab. Jab.
Jab. Jab. Jab.
Engrossed in his workout and distracted by the heavy metal music he was blasting from his stereo, Ranveer didn’t hear the knocking on his door. After a few minutes, the knocking turned into pounding before the visitor used a key to enter his apartment. He was alerted to the visitor’s presence when she turned his music off.
“RANVEER AJAY SEECHARRAN!” His mother screeched less than a foot away from him.
“Mother,” he began exaspe
