My Daughter

I stretched my left hand to confirm that Amma* is lying next to me. She was sleeping sound and calm. Her lips were dry and cracked in spite of the lip balm applied before sleeping. I pulled the bed sheet to cover her feet. The puffed pillow kept beside her seemed unmoved and untouched. I took care not to touch her or make noise while getting out of the bed to pee. I intentionally didn’t switch on the lights in the bathroom. After getting back to the bed, I stared at Amma’s face a long time.There were mixed feelings running through my mind because something unusual and unexpected had happened that afternoon.

In the afternoon, before giving her lunch, I woke her up from the sleep. She sat on the bed with sleepy and tired eyes. She looked terribly anemic. I held her each leg and helped her to keep her feet on the floor. Her feet were swollen and reddish. She walked slowly to the bathroom holding my hand and sat on the plastic stool kept there. She sat there without any complaints and I carefully bathed her.

A week back, at this time, I was crying my soul out. That day morning, before locking the door of our house, my brother and I hugged and cried. Our eyes looked puffed as we didn’t sleep the night before and ended up talking and crying. Every minute of the travel from our house to the hospital was filled with tension. My heart shattered into a million pieces when I saw my Amma in the hospital bed wearing a military green surgery gown with her hair plated ,on two sides, with green ribbons. She looked a school kid younger than me. Nobody in the room talked. My Father has been silent for past few days and it has been my Uncle,along with my Aunt, managing everything at the hospital. Amma was crying and the nurse kept telling her not to. She didn’t leave my Father’s hand at all. A tag was wound on her wrist with her name, doctor’s name and hospital id written on it. She kissed both of us and then kissed my Father too. I still don’t know what was going through her mind at that time. She left my Father’s hand only when the nurse forcefully took her hand off.And the door of the operation theater was closed. I looked at my Father and my brother and I could read what was going inside them. I ran to the telephone booth and called up my best friend. I cried talking whatever that came into my mind making him come over to the hospital. My Amma was hospitalized for bleeding for more than a month and half as she has been refusing to undergo surgery.

Her body didn’t respond well with the medicines and she became weaker day by day. Thus, she was forced to undergo the surgery. I felt terrible waiting for the nurse to call out of the door. Before the surgery date ,a lot of people told me that there is nothing to worry about surgery and some people undergo complex and critical surgeries like cakewalk. But, I understood that it is not an easy thing not to get tensed, especially when it is your mother who is undergoing the surgery.

After sometime, the nursed called us and showed a bloody mass of flesh and said that it was my Amma’s uterus. I looked carefully and wondered how it had accommodated my brother and me inside it. Later, she was brought out of the OT and she faintly opened her eyes to look at us when the nursed told her to do so. After two days she was shifted from the ICU to the hospital room and a day later to our home. We sterilized the bedroom and bathroom at downstairs as she was not suppose to climb stairs for the fear of breaking the stitches. For three days, I wiped her body with a wet cloth and the fourth day she was irritated without taking bath.

She sat on the stool like an obedient child. She told sorry to me for making me do all the household works and above that to bathe her too. But, I was happy to do things for her. For a moment I felt that I am her Mother and she is my baby daughter. The hormonal changes had badly affected her that she has started becoming emotional over silly things. I made sure that the stitches are intact and wiped her all over. She had the smile of a baby after taking bath. That smile on her would stay in mind forever.

For next two weeks, I had the most beautiful moments with my Mother. I put her to sleep and she went into sleep in no time because of the strong antibiotic medicines. I kept soft pillows to stop her from turning to her sides while sleeping. I made her walk slowly inside the house to get rid of the swelling on her feet. I fed her and at times scolded her when she refused to eat stale food.

The realization throughout the phase taught me how weak our parents ,whom we thought as super figures,can become . I was glad that we could stay beside her when she was in need rather than keeping a house maid. It is not about the money but I wonder whether we would ever get to spend such wonderful moments with her in our busy lives. Three of us stayed with her and as a family we had some priceless moments.

Most of the times, she slept for longer hours and then would wake up hungry. Three of us did experiments in the kitchen and we were glad that she didn’t complain about the food we made.

In a month’s time, she was back in action running behind us, laughing with my Father and going back to work. She put on weight for the good and she looked more beautiful and ravishing after getting rid of her uterus. We teased her saying that she could have done this surgery long back.

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Today, when I shout at her or fight with her, after hanging up the phone I know what her face expression would be. So, I would again call her up and pacify her with few stupid jokes and kisses. The scene has not changed much after the surgery. I like being her Mother and boss around and she somehow likes to nag and fight with me over silly things.

Hormonal changes? I wonder.

*Mother

Nostalgia

I am not sure whether I have reached the age to feel nostalgic as I just touched the quarter century 🙂

Yesterday evening when I heard my manager’s daughter talking to him over the phone, my mind ran two decades back.

Those days, telephones were not common, so my brother and I were very proud having one at home. Daily before getting out from the office, Dad gives us a ring to know whether he needs to shop something. Most of the days, my list will contain comics (or any book) and fried groundnuts. But Dad never got bored with buying me comics and books. Actually he has a big role in making me a book-worm. 🙂

My brother and I used to fight for picking up the telephone when it rings. We had this usual prank of making fool of each other by dialing 161.

But today, if the phone rings, three of us would look at Mom without raising our bums from the couch.

At times drastic changes in life take away a lot of our favorite matters. Until I moved out of home, it was usual to take a slow and long evening walk with Dad on Sunday after the 4pm movie.Both of us would talk about almost everything under the Sun during the walk. Since it’s Sunday evening, roads are deserted. So we walk into infinity. He would talk about his job, our family, our culture, values of education, necessity of being financially independent and NEVER to feel inferior just because I am a girl. Very rarely he used to miss Sunday walks with me.

As both my parents had job for five days, Sunday was special for us. There were times when my brother and I used to feel that it is Sunday if parents were at home during weekdays 🙂

Last week when I took a couple of days vacation, I missed the summer holidays badly. Summer holidays was filled with fun and pile of story books to read. We played cricket day and night, watched TV without missing any of our favorite shows, turned our couch into a bed as we slept on it most of the nights, ate our favorite foods without any breaks, cycled until we got tired or until we reached any dead-end while finding out some new routes, waited for the exam results to get announced so that we can celebrate, made list of new goodies to buy for the next academic year and a lot more. I don’t know whether summers changed or not, but those days’ summers were not as hot as today’. Playing in the Sun for the day never made us irritated, but today going out without sun screen and sun glasses have made life terrible. (Or was it because those days we were not worried about looks and complexion? 😀 )

Once Mom, brother and I were out for shopping and an unexpected rain made us run holding just one umbrella which Mom carries in her hand bag. All in a sudden I shouted to my brother saying “Make sure Mom is not getting drenched. If she falls sick, then we will be in trouble”. Though I blurted the truth, Mom still makes fun of me. But what I told came truly from my heart. If any of us fall sick, little it did change in our living. But when Mom fall sick, then three of us go crazy doing the household chores 😉 ;)More than being crazy, we felt that our home is dead as we can’t walk behind her telling day’s stories or to make her run behind us for doing some stupid pranks or to have a fair mediator for our fights or put us in sleep by telling stories from her college English text books.

Those times will never come back as today all are busy in their own worlds. Life certainly changed for the good, but still those memories do make a difference at times.

PS : Perhaps, because of this yearning that I still read comics, I still make Dad buy me comics plus fried groundnuts when I am home and my brother and I still play pranks with Mom even though she shouts at us “Grow Up!!!”

This entry is a part of the contest at BlogAdda.com in association with imlee.com

 

Not A Story

    Shared by a friend

I was walking around in a Big Bazar store making shopping, when I saw
a  Cashier talking to a boy couldn’t have been more than 5 or 6 years
old..

The Cashier said, ‘I’m sorry, but you don’t have enough money to buy
this doll. Then the little boy turned to me and asked: ”Uncle, are
you sure I don’t have enough money?”

I counted his cash and replied: ”You know that you don’t have enough
money to buy the doll, my dear.” The little boy was still holding the
doll in his hand.

Finally, I walked toward him and I asked him who he wished to give
this doll to. ‘It’s the doll that my sister loved most and wanted so
much . I wanted to Gift her for her BIRTHDAY.

I have to give the doll to my mommy so that she can give it to my
sister when she goes there.’ His eyes were so sad while saying this.
‘My Sister has gone to be with God.. Daddy says that Mommy is going to
see God very soon too, so I thought that she could take the doll with
her to give it to my sister…”

My heart nearly stopped. The little boy looked up at me and said: ‘I
told daddy to tell mommy not to go yet. I need her to wait until I
come back from the mall.’ Then he showed me a very nice photo of him
where he was laughing. He then told me ‘I want mommy to take my
picture with her so my sister won’t forget me.’ ‘I love my mommy and I
wish she doesn’t have to leave me, but daddy says that she has to go
to be with my little sister.’ Then he looked again at the doll with
sad eyes, very quietly..

I quickly reached for my wallet and said to the boy. ‘Suppose we check
again, if you do have enough money for the doll?”

‘OK’ he said, ‘I hope I do have enough.’ I added some of my money to
his without him seeing and we started to count it. There was enough
for the doll and even some spare money.

The little boy said: ‘Thank you God for giving me enough money!’

Then he looked at me and added, ‘I asked last night before I went to
sleep for God to make sure I had enough money to buy this doll, so
that mommy could give It to my sister. He heard me!” ‘I also wanted
to have enough money to buy a white rose for my mommy, but I didn’t
dare to ask God for too much. But He gave me enough to buy the doll
and a white rose. My mommy loves white roses.’

I finished my shopping in a totally different state from when I
started. I couldn’t get the little boy out of my mind. Then I
remembered a local news paper article two days ago, which mentioned a drunk man in a
truck, who hit a car occupied by a young woman and a little girl. The
little girl died right away, and the mother was left in a critical
state. The family had to decide whether to pull the plug on the
life-sustaining machine, because the young woman would not be able to
recover from the coma. Was this the family of the little boy?

Two days after this meet with the little boy, I read in the news
paper that the young woman had passed away.. I couldn’t stop myself as
I bought a bunch of white roses and I went to the funeral home where
the body of the young woman was exposed for people to see and make
last wishes before her burial. She was there, in her coffin, holding a
beautiful white rose in her hand with the photo of the little boy and
the doll placed over her chest. I left the place, teary-eyed, feeling
that my life changed for ever.

The love that the little boy had for his mother and his sister is
still, to this day, hard to imagine. And in a fraction of a second, a
drunk driver had taken all this away from him.

Please DO NOT DRINK & DRIVE.