Miss You Mome: A Village Memory That Lives Forever

Mome's Village – Where My Heart Still Lives
a quiet village, where the morning sun kissed the fields and the birds sang songs of peace…
there lived a woman I called Mome.

She wasn’t just my grandmother — she was my heart.
Her hands told stories — of cooking on chulha,
of weaving love into every thread of our lives.

Every morning, she would sit on the wooden bench,
grinding spices, humming old songs, and calling out to the cows by name.

I remember her yellow saree fluttering in the wind.
Her laughter echoed through the house,
strong, warm… like home itself.

But one day, that bench was empty.
The kitchen quiet.
And my heart... shattered.

Now, I return to the village,
not just for memories… but for her presence in every corner.

Mome, I miss you. I love you.
This life won’t come back…
But your love never left.