“Not in the mood today,” I told Mum nonchalantly, rolling my eyes. “Why does she always want to go to Nani’s house?” I thought as I entered the room where I spent most of my day. “That too, at 9 am!”

Gosh, I hated family gatherings. Even the family dinners I had to eat with my siblings and parents felt so pointless! I secretly thought I wouldn’t care less if they were out of my life. I had formed this opinion once in a moment of anger, but it had stayed with me, making me all the more bitter towards them.

My two siblings always tried to annoy me while I played video games.

“A bunch of attention seekers,” I would think as they teased me and asked me to shut the console.

This shift in my attitude towards my family had taken place a year ago. My summer vacation had led me to boredom, which pushed me into digital realms that I found far more convenient and interesting than the family I had.

Before leaving, Mum came into my room. “Bye, honey. I’m leaving, so do look after the twins.”

I didn’t respond, so she sighed. “I’m going to do something about your digital addiction.”

I rolled my eyes — a signature move — and anger flashed through my veins. The Netflix show turned out to be boring and the sounds of my siblings grew irritating, so I shut the door and went to sleep.

“You never come over now…” Khala complained.

My mum’s sorrowful face appeared before me, and I saw myself angry all day. Life began to move rapidly around me. It was a time-lapse — a time-lapse of my life. A pang went through my racing heart as I realised I was moving closer to death, my biggest fear.

I was innately miserable. As I grew older, I saw an uninspired, unhappy version of myself in the mirror. And I avoided it.

I got married, but my home was cold and distant. Emotional investment in my children felt too arduous, so I avoided it. My behaviour was taking a toll on me, and I developed heart problems and became obese. My heart raced and raced.

Then came my deathbed. I’m on my deathbed and my kids aren’t there! The crazy part is that my siblings are. The very people I had always labelled annoying and devilish, the people I had ignored time and again, were the ones shedding tears for me.

And suddenly, my heart stops. Memories of my childhood dreams take over. I see myself at five years old, dreaming of growing up and giving my parents the world. I wanted to open a cat café. I wanted to become an artist. But I had lost everything in the midst of my ego and defensiveness, all at the expense of my own happiness.

“Wake up!” Mum cried.

I woke up completely drenched in sweat and tears. Mum sat beside me, looking deeply concerned.

“Oh, are you okay? Oh… dear…”

Panting, I fell into her arms, sobbing. Slowly, she patted my back. My beautifully, empathetic mother.

“Mum,” I whispered, “I am afraid of dying like this.”

Family dinners may not always be perfect, but my best version was a positive contributor to that energy and chaos. You’d certainly never regret being there. Not on your deathbed.

Published in Dawn, Young World, September 4th, 2026