Down through the memory lane

 You never expect that one phone call to arrive on a lazy afternoon. I had just dozed off, mid-nap, when my phone rang. It was my mom. "Hello..." I answered, still half-asleep. But the call got cut. I thought I’d continue sleeping and call her back later. But something inside nudged me, and I called again. This time, my younger brother picked up. His voice was unusually slow. “Papa ko hospital mein admit kiya hai...” I sat upright. “Papa ko?” I shouted. “Kyun?!” The shout startled my sister, who was napping beside me. She woke up, confused and worried. My brother continued, “Unki sugar low ho gayi thi. Mummy doctor ke paas hai. Aayengi tab phone karengi.” And he cut the call. I tried to explain the situation to my sister, but before I could finish, my mom called back. This time, she was speaking herself. Her voice—shaky, urgent, and on the edge. “Ha kya hua mummy?” I asked. She broke down mid-sentence. “Pappa ko admit kiya hai... unka BP aur sugar dono ekdam se badh gaya... o...