Vipul dreaded step-mothers. He was a witness to the beatings his friend, Rohan, received from his step-mother after his mother had died of cancer. From the day she entered the house, Rohan was no longer a son but a slave. At night, he wept silently before falling asleep with the memories of the aromas and warmth of his mother’s love entwined with those moments of affection.

For Vipul, his mother, Vaishali, was his superhero who turned the mundane into fascination and love. She gave up her job and career to give him time. To love him. She was extraordinary, not because she was given so much, but made it that way. Vaishali was his heaven.

And the day she departed for her own heaven, Rohan who was standing by his side uttered, ‘You were so lucky, Vipul. I had never seen a step-mother so warm and loving.’