When mom asks me to hold my nephew, Arhum (means passion in Jainism). I was shit scared; I had never held a baby in my arm. After initial hesitation, I did agree. When I held him in my arms, it was a special moment where his small fingers were trying to grip my hand and his adorable dimples made my heart skip a beat. I was trying to identify myself in him – maybe his eyes or nose or chin looks like me. Finally, my sister joked he loves to sleep just like his mamu (uncle)! While holding him in…
Indian-Sage
by Prateek Khamesra