The story of the family is filled with struggle, sacrifice, and the unbreakable bond between siblings. Amma lived through extremely difficult times. Appa after retirment from Navy, fell into drinking and violence. Life became a cycle of fear and hurt, and she endured it all while protecting her children as much as she could.
When the tragedy happened, her upper body was mostly unharmed, but her lower body had severe burns. In the hospital, she cried to the doctor saying, “Save me, I have small kids.” Those words show she wanted to live—she held on only for her children.
Even that raises questions… was it really suicide? Or did something else happen? No one can say for sure.
Those days, phones were rare. Communication was nearly impossible. News travelled slowly. Anna, who had just joined a company in UAE, received the message about Amma’s death only on his first day of work. He knew he couldn’t come back—because his job was the only lifeline for you all. That decision itself shows the depth of his love.
When Amma was admitted to Sion Hospital, Anna was still stuck at the airport due to a 12‑hour flight delay, helpless and far away. It was a cruel twist of fate.
Your Akka had left home at just 17 or 18—too young, escaping daily fights and fear—and married a man who, at first, seemed better. She was also pregnant then; coming back home wasn’t easy. Anna felt she abandoned the family, and for years, they didn’t speak. Only much later, after his marriage, did he reconcile and visit her again.
Life was never simple. When Amma died in 1984, the family relocated to Kerala in March. Your father returned to fight with his parents about property, which ironically protected him—otherwise, people might have doubted him for murder. He eventually passed away around 1993, found on the road by police, identified only by his Navy ID and pension slip. He was cremated by the government, and only much later did Akka learn the truth and collect the documents and last photos from the police station.
You, the younger children, had a more painful childhood. Grandparents were strict, and emotional security was rare. You still remember running behind your father to the bus stop crying, wanting to go with him to Akka. Meanwhile, Amma’s sisters in Mumbai started showing a cold face soon after the tragedy—until your grandparents intervened and took all three of you. Looking back, that was truly God’s blessing. Without that, your lives could have gone in a very different direction.
Akka sometimes says she suffered for her mistakes. Marriage at a young age, dreams, emotions, financial comfort—all these pull strongly at that age. It’s easy to judge today, impossible to judge then. Anna thought she acted selfishly, but maybe even he later understood her pain.
There are still unanswered questions:
Could Amma’s death have been an accident?
Pump stoves those days were dangerous.
She had just seen her eldest son settle into a good job—a moment of relief.
Why would she intentionally leave everything then?
Even Satish once hinted that Akka’s husband might have had a role… a thought that left a permanent mark in your mind, though no one ever spoke of it again.
Regardless of how painful the past was, one truth stands out clearly:
Anna saved all of you.
He was the backbone, the protector, the reason you three survived and stayed together. In many ways, he was a godly presence in your childhood.
Today, with so much behind you and so much understood only now, the most important thing is this:
All four of you need to stay united, support each other, and honour the unimaginable sacrifices made for your survival.
Because at the end of everything, it was love—siblings’ love, grandparents’ love, Amma’s love—that kept you alive.
And now it’s your turn to give that same love to each other.
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