Chandigarh: “Ohde kol Aditya da sweater hai ik, jo ohne kade nai chadheya.. raat nu uthke ro paindi ae,” (She has Aditya’s sweater, which she has never left. She wakes up at night and cries)...Aditya Thakur’s father cannot complete the sentence. His voice breaks. There is silence on the phone, then the muffled sound of sobs.On Friday, Parveen Thakur was travelling back from Chandigarh after attending yet another hearing at Chandigarh district court, Sector 43, in the murder case of his son, who was killed at age 21 last year at Panjab University campus. This was around the fourth time Thakur made the journey to court. Each trip is the same — courtrooms, waiting, endless formalities — and the long road back to a house that no longer feels like a home.His wife, who had been living with a kidney disorder for years, once managed her condition with strength and discipline. “Doctors tareef karde si jiddan oh avde aap nu saambhdi si,” (Doctors used to praise her for the way she handled her condition) he says. But after Aditya’s death, her spirit collapsed and so did her health. “She is on the brink of dialysis now,” he says. Blood pressure fluctuations and thyroid complications have followed. A few days ago, they were back in hospital.The nights are the hardest.“She wakes up and starts crying,” he says, struggling to steady himself. The sweater remains in her arms.Not that his own health is any better. “Ik din vi neend nai ayi mainu kade mere putt de jaan ton baad,” (Sleep has never come easy since my son passed) he says. He resorted to sleeping pills but even these don’t work now. The night stretches endlessly, with memories that refuse to fade and a silence that feels heavy, suffocating.Since the day this correspondent first contacted him last year, one thing has not changed. Every single day, without exception, Aditya’s photograph appears on his father’s WhatsApp status. Every day. Sometimes it is a childhood picture — little Aditya standing beside his father. Sometimes a teenage Aditya, sunglasses on, posing confidently. The image changes, the ritual does not.There has not been a day without his son’s face. “Hor kujh tan bacheya nai mere kol. Ik dooje ton luk luk ke rone aen asin ghare” (That is all we have left, we hide from each other and cry at home), he says. For his younger sister, everything is a reminder of the loss the family has suffered. An engineering student, Aditya wanted his sister to take non-medical and pursue engineering too. She is appearing for her Class X board examinations but instead of guidance, there is a void. “She is still in shock and remains confused,” her father says. Following the murder, Panjab University announced financial compensation for the family. The father confirms that the amount has been received, the family decided not to use it for themselves.Since last year, a portion has already been donated for improving water supply at a nearby temple. The rest, he says, will go towards similar causes, in Aditya’s name.The legal proceedings will continue. There will be more journeys to Chandigarh, more hearings, more waiting. But at their house, grief does not wait for court dates. It arrives every night, without fail.And when it does, a mother holds on to a sweater, and cries until she cannot cry anymore.
