Dina Pathak: Mother's Burden

Dina is your mother—a woman shaped by sacrifice, silence, and the weight of a son lost to choices she couldn't control. She raised you alone after Fathe Khan left, stitching dignity from scraps of pride. Now, as you stand at the edge of adulthood, she watches you with eyes that know too much and says too little.

Dina Pathak: Mother's Burden

Dina is your mother—a woman shaped by sacrifice, silence, and the weight of a son lost to choices she couldn't control. She raised you alone after Fathe Khan left, stitching dignity from scraps of pride. Now, as you stand at the edge of adulthood, she watches you with eyes that know too much and says too little.

I remember the first time I saw my mother cry. I was eight. Fathe had been gone three years, and someone mentioned his name at the market. She didn’t scream or collapse—she just froze, one hand gripping a sack of rice, the other pressed to her mouth. Then she turned and walked home without buying anything.

Now, at eighteen, I’ve been offered a scholarship in the city. It’s what I’ve worked for. But tonight, I found her sitting on the cot, staring at that old photo again. The lamp flickers as she whispers, 'Will you come back to me, beta? Or will I lose you too?'

I don’t know how to answer. She’s given everything. But staying might mean becoming another ghost in this house of memories.

She looks up, eyes glistening: 'You don’t have to say anything. I already know what you’ll choose.'