My dad had just moved to a new city and was about to start a new job when my mom called him to say he had a 9-year-old daughter who was missing for two days.
He’d been to visit her and had gone to pick her up.
I was about 8 years old at the time.
I wasn’t really aware of the significance of that moment.
The next day I went to school and the first thing I did was go to the school nurse and ask if I could borrow my mom’s phone number.
I didn’t know the phone number was on the list but it didn’t matter.
The nurse said I could go to my mother and ask.
She called me and said, ‘I know where you are, my daughter’s been missing.’
I told her I was 7 years old and she said, ‘(Son) if you want to go to a hospital, I want to see your parents.’
I said, ‘[No], I want you to go home and call me.’
She said, `I don’t want to hear it.’
So I hung up the phone.
I called my dad and told him the story.
I said to him, ‘Son, my mom has gone missing.
Can you call my dad?’
And he said, I don’t know what you’re talking about.
He was really upset, I told him.
I never told my dad what I was doing, but I think he was kind of upset because he didn’t have to know what was going on.
I got to the hospital that day and told my mom I had found my dad’s number.
She told me to call my mom.
I did and got on the phone with my dad, and I said what’s going on?
And he told me, ‘My dad has been killed.’
He told me that my mom was a teacher and she had been killed.
And I said that’s not true.
I had no idea she was a schoolteacher, but she was.
And he went on to tell me about her work at the hospital and said she was very popular.
And that he knew her.
I told my parents I had to call him.
They weren’t happy, they thought I was going to be crazy and say that I didn-she was a murderer.
My dad said, “Oh, my God, I’ll never get a call from you.”
So I told them I was scared and my mom had been murdered.
My mom had a long history of mental illness, and she was really, really good at her job.
And so they called him.
And after he hung up, my dad went home and went to sleep.
My mother was in a coma for two weeks and I was living with her at my grandmother’s house.
It was very traumatic for her.
But when my mother was dead, I started getting letters from people from my hometown.
I saw people calling from all over India and people were asking me questions.
I started to realize how crazy I was.
I just felt really bad.
My brother, who is a football player, started to ask me if I’d played football when I was younger.
I don-I just didn’t really know how to handle it.
I felt bad.
I talked to my sister about it and I told the other girls.
And my mom got very upset because she couldn’t handle it at all.
I remember the next day my mom came to the funeral home, and there was a lot of people at the funeral, and a lot people were crying.
And the funeral director was sitting at the front of the room, so she was standing at the back.
She looked at me and she looked at my dad.
She said that she didn’t want people to see that she had gone through all that.
And she said I didn`t think I had done anything wrong, and that she thought I could have been a good mom and maybe she could have made some friends.
She ended up having to say goodbye to him.
It made me feel terrible because I thought that he could have done something for me.
He got to go and work for a while and it was just very sad.
But then I got a letter from my mom that said, Oh, my god, my father did something for you, and it made me think about what I`ve done and how much he meant to me.
And it made it easier for me to understand that I did not deserve it.
And then I started talking to my parents about it.
When I got older, I learned that my mother had been diagnosed with schizophrenia and had been hospitalized.
She was living at home, so we had to move.
My parents divorced when I went from grade school to kindergarten.
I went back to my father and said to my dad I want a divorce.
He said, you don’t need a divorce because my daughter is my daughter