15 September 2015. A Tuesday. It has been 11 years, but I still remember everything. Not just the day he died. I remember the days before it, the little things I didn’t understand then, the things nobody told me, and the things I understood only after it was too late. After July, my Appu was in and out of the hospital. My tuition was on the same road as our house. I remember walking past our house sometimes and looking towards it with fear. Whenever I saw a crowd, I would get scared for a moment. But I was never expecting him to die. In my mind, he was going to come back home. He always came back . On 12 September, I saw him in the hospital. He was in the ICU, with the breathing support and everything around him. I knew he was very sick. I knew he couldn’t eat properly. I knew things weren’t normal. But when he looked at me, it still felt normal. He asked me, “Muttai kondu vanille?” Didn’t I bring something for him? That was so Appu. Whenever I went anywhere, I would...