Watch your words, the heart is listening
Hear the sounds ,the soul is grieving
Feel the longing, the eyes are brimming
Touch the heart, life is for living!
How can one ever get over the sorrow?
The pain is still fresh, eyes well up and throat swells up choking the soul. He reasons that moving on is the only way but the intensity does not let up.
Her serene, gentle face is what he is searching for every where. The patient coaxing, soothing remedies, constant encouragement, persistent faith that he would finally overcome his timid, shy nature and excel in what he decided to do.
Third grade reading lessons, he was too scared to read in class, so she taught him to picture her face on the book and read out as if to her.
It worked and he was overjoyed with the teachers pat and the golden star that was pinned on his lapel for the week.
Overnight he seemed to bloom, his dedication coupled with her gentle prodding, he was over the moon.
His chechi, who protected him from his fierce Father, his cowering/ever sick mother, his four older brothers who lived in fear of the wrath Father unleashed when drunk.
She did all the house work, cooking, cleaning, washing up .He looked out for her when classes were over, she always stood there with a smile, a snack and cool drink of water, picking up his school bags, asking him about the day, wiping his face tenderly.
Then she was no more.
He did not understand what happened or why no one would talk about her.The family moved back to the old home in Kerala and he was sent off to a boarding school. Being the youngest and never close to his siblings he felt lost and bewildered. Taking to his books, he found solace in them as he would always picture her face smiling and urging him on.
Life went on, the nuns and priests at the school were kind as he was a quiet, introspective child.
He did well in studies, got a scholarship, applied for studies abroad as he had to get away from the depressing household, his large family meant nothing to him.
He was an adult now, well set in life.
Today, the anniversary of her vanishing from his life, he brooded anew.
Scrolling the face book friends list he recollected one name and face.
His sisters friend who always had a kind word for him and who had helped him during the traumatic days following her loss.
Thoughtfully he sent a gentle message ,introducing himself as she appeared to be online.
The coffee pot shrilled, he opened his eyes to see her reply.
Yes, she did remember him, and wanted to know how he was doing, where he was settled?
By a strange coincidence she was in a town about two hours drive from his apartment in Toledo, Ohio.
'Can I come over, today is--' he choked as he could not complete the sentence.
Yes, do come and join us for lunch, you can stay the weekend as the family will be over too'.
She invited him over.
Knowing this could be his only chance of finally finding the missing information that eluded him for
two decades, he was soon on his way, driving to her location.
She was just as he had pictured her to be.
The sight of her in a simple, elegant starched cotton saree, the string of jasmine flowers adorning her hair, the decorated walls of the elegant house, the smell of sandalwood and camphor reminded him of the days he had wandered around her large sprawling house which he often visited as a child with his loving sister.
He sat at the large well decorated dining room as she served Indian crepes (dosas) and filter coffee.
They talked about his achievements as Chief of HR in General Motors, she was a Professor at the University near by, teaching Science to Graduate students.
Her husband was Head of the Department in Physics and was on deputation to Japan.
Her son worked for Apple in Cuppertino, San Jose.
Her Daughter would be home soon, she was a veterinary Doctor and had her own Animal Clinic downtown.
Gently drawing him out, she probed the reason for his sorrow.
His point blank question had her sitting still as he explained why he just had to know what had transpired almost two decades ago to the day.
Quietly, she began talking, her only request was that he should not interrupt her as she talked.
His sister had been her best friend in class, they confided everything to each other.
Even when things at her household had soured, they held on. Her mother had a hysterectomy after the birth of the seventh child who was still born.
Oomana, his sister, stopped attending school as she had to take care of her siblings and her mother who was by then, very sick physically. The medicines she had been having to ease the pain and the trauma of losing the child and her womb, already in a weakened state after repeated childbirths,seemed to have affected her brain. She was mentally unstable and took to bed.
The misery started when her father turned to her since the mother was unable to satisfy his needs.
At fifteen, she was abused by him and bore him a son...the tears in her eyes confirmed what he had suspected but had not questioned.
She was his mother and sister too.
Life went on as she held the family together for another eight years.
Then her mother passed ,and he began his torture again.
This time she resisted him during his drunken bout but he had hit her head on the wall.Her dying declaration was that her son should be a ward of the state and not allowed to be in his fathers' care.
She, who had just started as a lawyer, stepped in and confirmed that he was sent to a boarding school, away from the family's reach.
His expenses were met from her share of the family property, the tharawad.
Silently each one re-lived the sacrifice of the loving, gentle soul they both grieved for on that day.
The sound of the car alerted them.
Wiping her eyes, she mimed the Zip the Lip Act, even as her daughter breezed in with two puppies in tow, their tails wagging.
'Amma, look what I got you today'.
The slender, slim, long legged beauty took his breath away.
Quickly they were introduced ,the topic shifted and the weekend passed by in a blur.
They kept in touch and forged a relationship that two years later seemed strong and lasting.
He risked it all by quietly telling her the truth about himself.
Her dazzling smile and adoring eyes told him she had known it all along and that she loved him for overcoming it all, the lonely childhood, the struggling years, the enduring capability.
They loved one another for who each one was and there were no skeletons in the cupboard now.
The wedding was a quiet affair and the couple flew to Kerala to see the land that was native to both the families.
Within
the family temple, the lone statue seemed strangely content as they
performed their prayers after almost twenty two years to appease the
passing of a departed soul.
The sense of peace and longing lingered as they sat in the twilight each wondering and drinking in the view.
THE END
=========================================================================
By the author...
" The still pond, the tall palms,
the gentle swaying of lush greens, the sloping red tiles,
the fragrance of sandalwood paste, the chimes of the bells,
the chants of mantras as the village folk trickled in.
The evening prayers after a days hard toil - a typical evening visit of Palakkad inhabitants
the flora and fauna surrounding the calm stillness, the thulasi tharai.
The eyes brim with memories of childhood days "
I pen these words in recollection of my dearest friend OMANA.
"If wishes come true,then come back to us as our children will soon have a baby who we will name after you,my dear sister"
So saying, she finally broke down.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Hear the sounds ,the soul is grieving
Feel the longing, the eyes are brimming
Touch the heart, life is for living!
The pain is still fresh, eyes well up and throat swells up choking the soul. He reasons that moving on is the only way but the intensity does not let up.
Her serene, gentle face is what he is searching for every where. The patient coaxing, soothing remedies, constant encouragement, persistent faith that he would finally overcome his timid, shy nature and excel in what he decided to do.
Third grade reading lessons, he was too scared to read in class, so she taught him to picture her face on the book and read out as if to her.
It worked and he was overjoyed with the teachers pat and the golden star that was pinned on his lapel for the week.
Overnight he seemed to bloom, his dedication coupled with her gentle prodding, he was over the moon.
His chechi, who protected him from his fierce Father, his cowering/ever sick mother, his four older brothers who lived in fear of the wrath Father unleashed when drunk.
She did all the house work, cooking, cleaning, washing up .He looked out for her when classes were over, she always stood there with a smile, a snack and cool drink of water, picking up his school bags, asking him about the day, wiping his face tenderly.
Then she was no more.
He did not understand what happened or why no one would talk about her.The family moved back to the old home in Kerala and he was sent off to a boarding school. Being the youngest and never close to his siblings he felt lost and bewildered. Taking to his books, he found solace in them as he would always picture her face smiling and urging him on.
Life went on, the nuns and priests at the school were kind as he was a quiet, introspective child.
He did well in studies, got a scholarship, applied for studies abroad as he had to get away from the depressing household, his large family meant nothing to him.
He was an adult now, well set in life.
Today, the anniversary of her vanishing from his life, he brooded anew.
Scrolling the face book friends list he recollected one name and face.
His sisters friend who always had a kind word for him and who had helped him during the traumatic days following her loss.
Thoughtfully he sent a gentle message ,introducing himself as she appeared to be online.
The coffee pot shrilled, he opened his eyes to see her reply.
Yes, she did remember him, and wanted to know how he was doing, where he was settled?
By a strange coincidence she was in a town about two hours drive from his apartment in Toledo, Ohio.
'Can I come over, today is--' he choked as he could not complete the sentence.
Yes, do come and join us for lunch, you can stay the weekend as the family will be over too'.
She invited him over.
Knowing this could be his only chance of finally finding the missing information that eluded him for
two decades, he was soon on his way, driving to her location.
She was just as he had pictured her to be.
The sight of her in a simple, elegant starched cotton saree, the string of jasmine flowers adorning her hair, the decorated walls of the elegant house, the smell of sandalwood and camphor reminded him of the days he had wandered around her large sprawling house which he often visited as a child with his loving sister.
He sat at the large well decorated dining room as she served Indian crepes (dosas) and filter coffee.
They talked about his achievements as Chief of HR in General Motors, she was a Professor at the University near by, teaching Science to Graduate students.
Her husband was Head of the Department in Physics and was on deputation to Japan.
Her son worked for Apple in Cuppertino, San Jose.
Her Daughter would be home soon, she was a veterinary Doctor and had her own Animal Clinic downtown.
Gently drawing him out, she probed the reason for his sorrow.
His point blank question had her sitting still as he explained why he just had to know what had transpired almost two decades ago to the day.
Quietly, she began talking, her only request was that he should not interrupt her as she talked.
His sister had been her best friend in class, they confided everything to each other.
Even when things at her household had soured, they held on. Her mother had a hysterectomy after the birth of the seventh child who was still born.
Oomana, his sister, stopped attending school as she had to take care of her siblings and her mother who was by then, very sick physically. The medicines she had been having to ease the pain and the trauma of losing the child and her womb, already in a weakened state after repeated childbirths,seemed to have affected her brain. She was mentally unstable and took to bed.
The misery started when her father turned to her since the mother was unable to satisfy his needs.
At fifteen, she was abused by him and bore him a son...the tears in her eyes confirmed what he had suspected but had not questioned.
She was his mother and sister too.
Life went on as she held the family together for another eight years.
Then her mother passed ,and he began his torture again.
This time she resisted him during his drunken bout but he had hit her head on the wall.Her dying declaration was that her son should be a ward of the state and not allowed to be in his fathers' care.
She, who had just started as a lawyer, stepped in and confirmed that he was sent to a boarding school, away from the family's reach.
His expenses were met from her share of the family property, the tharawad.
Silently each one re-lived the sacrifice of the loving, gentle soul they both grieved for on that day.
The sound of the car alerted them.
Wiping her eyes, she mimed the Zip the Lip Act, even as her daughter breezed in with two puppies in tow, their tails wagging.
'Amma, look what I got you today'.
The slender, slim, long legged beauty took his breath away.
Quickly they were introduced ,the topic shifted and the weekend passed by in a blur.
They kept in touch and forged a relationship that two years later seemed strong and lasting.
He risked it all by quietly telling her the truth about himself.
Her dazzling smile and adoring eyes told him she had known it all along and that she loved him for overcoming it all, the lonely childhood, the struggling years, the enduring capability.
They loved one another for who each one was and there were no skeletons in the cupboard now.
The wedding was a quiet affair and the couple flew to Kerala to see the land that was native to both the families.
The sense of peace and longing lingered as they sat in the twilight each wondering and drinking in the view.
THE END
=========================================================================
By the author...
" The still pond, the tall palms,
the gentle swaying of lush greens, the sloping red tiles,
the fragrance of sandalwood paste, the chimes of the bells,
the chants of mantras as the village folk trickled in.
The evening prayers after a days hard toil - a typical evening visit of Palakkad inhabitants
the flora and fauna surrounding the calm stillness, the thulasi tharai.
The eyes brim with memories of childhood days "
I pen these words in recollection of my dearest friend OMANA.
"If wishes come true,then come back to us as our children will soon have a baby who we will name after you,my dear sister"
So saying, she finally broke down.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Left me with moist eyes
ReplyDeleteDont Know what to say But..........It made remind of something. Wether ur reading this or not i dont knew then An Hats Of salute for you....
ReplyDelete