9-year-old Jaiveer.

Mum left.

She left, not to come back ever.

God, why did you take my mama? Now where will I go? She was my home, and you snatched it from me.

I looked around and saw everyone dressed in black speaking; it was Mamma's fune—funeral.

She left me; she left me here all alone.

Who is going to watch F1 with me now?

Who will go to kiss my forehead every day?

Who will go to say that I am her Angel Baby?

I wipe my tears again, fisting the chain in my hand, "It's fine, baby, it's fine." No, it's not fine, not fine, Grandpa; nothing is...