The Ghost Daughter Who Was Left Behind / Chapter 7: At Amma’s Doorstep
The Ghost Daughter Who Was Left Behind

The Ghost Daughter Who Was Left Behind

Author: Isha Singh

Chapter 7: At Amma’s Doorstep

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Amma lived in a beautiful place—a white-walled bungalow with bougainvillea spilling over the gate, the air rich with jasmine and wet mud. A small river ran in front, where fishermen cast their nets at dawn and children played gilli-danda on the banks.

That’s where I saw my little brother—Ashu. He had Amma’s big eyes, a mop of curly hair, and a giggle that made even the birds pause. His feet were chubby and muddy, his laughter echoing across the water as he stumbled over stones, arms flailing.

When he was about to fall, Amma’s hand caught him. "Ashu, did it hurt when you fell? The floor is naughty—should we scold it?" Amma’s voice was full of laughter, her eyes crinkling with love. She picked him up, kissing his forehead, her saree smelling of sandalwood and home.

It was Amma. My heart swelled with joy, and for a moment, all my hunger and pain faded. Amma was still Amma—gentle, kind, full of love.

After so many years, I heard her voice again—softer now, less heavy with sorrow, but still the sweetest sound I knew. There were white hairs at her temples, wrinkles at the corners of her eyes, but her smile was unchanged.

She looked happy—happier than before. She laughed more, sang old film songs while cooking, and let the sun warm her face in the mornings. The house was full and alive.

Just then, uncle came home. He picked up Ashu and kissed Amma. Uncle’s arms were strong, his laughter loud, his Tamil-accented Hindi warm: "Meera beta, see, your Amma is happy now." He ruffled Ashu’s hair, filling the house with warmth.

I was happy for Amma, but a little bitter inside. I hugged myself, rocking gently. "Mummy, can you hug Meera too… Meera is nineteen this year." I waited, arms open, wishing for her warmth. "Mummy, I didn’t grow up, you can still carry me."

Of course, Amma couldn’t hear me. But Ashu looked at me, eyes wide and curious. He giggled, pointing at the empty air, as if he could see my longing.

He babbled, grasping at the sunlight, his laughter ringing out. For a moment, I almost felt real.

Then a big black dog stood in front of him, fur bristling, bark deep. It glared at me, hackles raised, teeth bared—Dadi used to say dogs could see ghosts.

Amma smiled, pinching Ashu’s nose. "You little rascal, do you want your doggie bhaiya to carry you?" She tickled his tummy, her laughter mingling with his. The dog barked nonstop, warning me away.

Uncle tried to distract the dog, but it wouldn’t budge. It circled between Ashu and me, barking louder with every step.

I was scared, but I gritted my teeth. "I… I’m not afraid of you." I stood tall, fists clenched. If I could survive death, I could face a dog.

Slowly, Amma and uncle’s expressions changed. They picked up Ashu and hurried inside, locking the door behind them. The door slammed, echoing in the empty yard. I was left outside, the dog barking, my heart pounding.

I wanted to go in, but a pandit’s charm on the door burned me. The red mark glowed fresh, searing pain through me, worse than any wound. I stumbled back, tears streaming.

I stared at the door, lost, not knowing what to do. The house glowed with light, laughter spilling from the windows. I pressed my forehead to the door, wishing for one last hug, one last goodbye.

But the night air was heavy with jasmine and distant drumbeats from the temple. The world inside was closed to me forever.

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