Tag: family

Chapter Thirteen: A Helpful Voice

The class seemed to go on forever. Praveena couldn’t concentrate, but she was careful not to drift away from the lesson. She didn’t want Ms Marrie thinking she was playing the fool.

Ever since Ms Marrie had assured Praveena that she was open for discussion, Praveena had been feeling an unmistakable urge to talk to her. But she was also a bit scared of the outcome. What would Ms Marrie think of her?

As she watched Ms Marrie teaching, Praveena thought about talking to her. She had a lot of agony within her and she wanted someone to open up to. Ms Marrie was the only person who had given any indication she would listen.

Praveena decided to talk to her.

‘Are you sure?’ her inner voice peeked up. She silenced it with a definite yes.

When the class ended, Praveena trailed Ms Marrie out of the class. Spotting her, Ms Marrie said, “Hi, Praveena. How are you?”

“Not good, Miss.” she replied without looking in to Ms Marrie’s eyes.

“You want to talk about it?”

Praveena nodded. It seemed odd, asking a teacher to talk to you about personal things. But she didn’t care anymore. She missed her mother more than ever; she wanted someone to listen to her, to console her and to chide her. She wanted her mother. She wanted to tell someone that what happened to her was unfair and she wanted affirmation.

Ms Marrie nodded curtly and walked towards her room. On the way, they came across Ms Selima, Praveena’s English teacher.

“Why aren’t you in class?” She asked sternly, peering at Praveena through the top of her glasses.

“Oh, I’m borrowing her for a while, Selima. Sorry I didn’t let you know.” Marrie smiled brightly.

“OK,” Ms Selima said and went on her way without giving Praveena a second look. Praveena stood watching her with a queer expression. “She and I aren’t the best of friends,” Ms Mary mused, watching Praveena.

She looked up at Ms Marrie. Smiling, she led Praveena to her room.

Before they went inside, Ms Marrie offered Praveena a stress buster. “How about a cup of tea, Praveena?” She asked picking up the kettle that had been sitting on a table just behind the door.

“Please.” Praveena was surprised. Personal beverages within the school campus? She was sure Principal Vanitha would never hear of this.

Ms Marrie bolted the door and settled behind the desk as Praveena sat facing her. Noticing the room darker than it had been the last time she was there, Praveena saw that Ms Marrie hadn’t opened the window.

“Alright,” Ms Marrie began with an air of getting things done. “What’s bothering you, Praveena?” she asked in a more serious tone.

It surprised Praveena. Just a second ago, Ms Marrie had sounded casual and lighthearted. And now she was all serious.

“Praveena?” she repeated. Praveena looked up at her.

“Hey, look. I know you’ve had a lot of problems. But just remember, you’re not alone.”

“What?”

“Everyone has problems of their own, only the degree of it differs.” She shrugged. “Now don’t get me wrong, I’m not belittling your suffering,” she paused tilting her head towards Praveen. “but I’m only saying you should be aware of others’ problems too.”

“But how could I do that? Should I just walk up to them…” Praveena trailed away thinking of Priya.

“No.” Ms Marrie replied. “you don’t need to do anything like that. Just keep in mind that people you meet every day are undergoing tough stuff. Even if they don’t show it.”

Praveena nodded.

“Now, tell me. What were you upset about the other day?” Ms Marrie wanted to help, Praveena could see that. ‘She could give you a better insight, you know’ her inner voice said. ‘and another perspective’ the second voice added.

“Mr Andrew.” Praveena paused, not knowing how to open the matter. Now that she had someone to talk to, the matter seemed trivial. Maybe she was just being stupid.

Ms Marrie egged her on, “What about him?”

“He told me — ” she swallowed, “he told me he hated teaching.” She waited, expecting Ms Marrie to say something. But she showed no sign of surprise. Apparently it wasn’t news to her.

“And?” Ms Marrie urged after a while.

“He said he had wanted to be an archeologist and that he changed his mind because someone convinced him to.” Once she heard it come out of her mouth, it sounded a bit funny that such a thing had worried her so much.

“So, that’s what upset you,” Ms Marrie confirmed, nodding curtly.

“Yes.” Praveena’s voice was small.

“Good.” She nodded in approval. Praveena had not been expecting that.

“What?” she was perplexed.

“What exactly about Mr Andrew’s life bothered you?” Ms Marrie had a strange expression on her face, as if it was a perfectly ordinary matter to discuss, “Don’t worry, be honest.” she added, seeing Praveena’s unsure look.

Praveena thought. What had really upset her was, “he gave up on his dream too easily, and I couldn’t accept it.”

“Exactly,” Ms Marrie exclaimed jubilantly. “That’s good.”

“Why?” Praveena was confused.

“If you’re upset about someone else not realizing their dreams, it just means you have a passion to see others succeed in life.”

Praveena wore a quizzical look. She had no such passion at all. Perhaps Ms Marrie had misunderstood her. This conversation was becoming pointless.

“Let me explain,” Ms Marrie seemed to have read her thoughts, “You strongly believe people should realize their dreams. Right?”

Praveena nodded silently.

“So, when Andrew ended up a teacher, your belief was tested for the first time. That’s why you were upset. You couldn’t accept it because you had never heard of it happen before. Am I right?”

Praveena now saw the picture, as understanding drew on her face. She nodded.

“But don’t mistake the power of society. It will continue to test you and surprise you. You will face the same confusion every time your beliefs are questioned. It’s up to you to decide how to react. You follow?”

“Yes, Miss” Praveena sounded happier now. Her heart felt lighter. “But Miss, does it mean that my trust will always be broken?”

“Maybe,” Ms Marrie shrugged “you can never be sure.”

“Then,” Praveena was again confused. ‘’what should I do if I’m not sure?”

Ms Marrie was silent. Her eyebrows creased as she thought. “I don’t know.” she said at last. “Maybe that’s for you to find out.”

Praveena nodded in agreement. “Maybe…” she trailed away.

They were silent for a while. Then Marrie broke it.

“How’s your father, Praveena? How’s he taking your mother’s death?” Marrie wanted Praveena to talk, to open up and reveal her innermost feelings. She knew Praveena had never done that before.

“It’s really difficult for him, he can’t come out of it.” Praveena’s voice went all squashy. It was strange, talking to Ms Marrie about her mother so easily, when she had reacted so badly towards Priya.

“I see,” Ms Marrie observed, “and,” she paused now looking directly into Praveena’s eyes, “what about you?”

“I’m fine, really”

Ms Marrie smiled. ‘Did I sound convincing?’ Praveena wondered.

“You know, that’s a bit too quick to be true.”

‘Perhaps not.’

“What’s going on, Praveena? Tell me exactly, don’t be shy and don’t be scared. Just talk.” Marrie’s voice was gentle, urging Praveena.

“I feel — ” she stopped and sniffed, “sad. Like I have no reason to live, like I’ll never be the same again.” she gulped.

“Like a part of you had died,” Marrie helped.

“Yes.”

“That’s how you should feel, because that’s what happened.” Ms Marrie wore a smile on her lips, a content and satisfied smile.

For some odd reason, Praveena felt better.

National Blog Posting Month – Day 14

Chapter Twelve: Motherless Woes

Praveena stayed home for a week. Not to recover from the shock, as others would have described it, but to help her father piece himself together. Praveena knew Geetha’s death had affected him more than it had her. She knew he couldn’t let her go; he loved her too much. When Praveena asked Kamal, two days after the funeral, why their relatives had never shown up before, he only said, “They weren’t too happy with us getting married.” From the way he said it, Praveena could discern how much they had loved each other to dare to oppose their families and succeed together for such a long time.

The days that followed Geetha’s death were the worst days of Praveena’s life. She was filled with emotions and thoughts she couldn’t share with anyone. Kamal was heartbroken. He needed Praveena to sit by him, more for moral support than anything. For hours, they would sit together, nonspeaking, reflecting their days with Geetha; happy days of laughter, quarrels and serious conversations on the same couch they now sat. It was as if an undeniable part of them had suddenly left, leaving an unfilled dent in their hearts.

When Praveena went back to school, all eyes followed her. She could see the pity in everyone’s eyes, even the teachers looked extra kind. And it bothered her.

Andrew spoke to her after class that day. Gathering his things, he called to her, “Praveena, follow me please.” His voice was a bit gentler than it had been the day he had reported about her to Kamal.

She followed him to an empty class room nearby. He turned to face her, “I am really very sorry for your loss.” Flat and emotion-less words spoken as such.

Praveena, not knowing what to say, remained quiet. She didn’t meet his look, and cast her eyes at his polished shoes instead.

“Are you alright?”

She nodded at his shoes. Was that fear she detected in his voice? Her eyebrows arched in curiosity – still at the shoes. Perhaps not, she decided as he said, “OK, then. I’ll see you later.” he turned and strode away from her.

She stood immobile for a moment, staring at his back. And then she turned to her class.

As she sat waiting for the next teacher to arrive, Priya showed up from nowhere.

“Hey!” she said breathlessly, trying hard, and failing, to sound normal. She was brimming with curiosity, Praveena knew, but decided not to get to the details.

“Hi,” Praveena responded in the most unwelcoming tone she could muster. Priya didn’t meet Praveena’s gaze. Looking low, she said in a small voice, “Sorry about your mother.”

“Ya. So am I.” Praveena tried to keep her voice level and void of emotion. She looked at Priya’s face expressionless. She hated getting emotional in front of other people.

Priya looked up brightly, hoping Praveena would talk.

“So,” Priya swallowed and began tentatively, “What actually happened to your mom?” The words came out a little faster than normal.

Praveena felt rage welling within her but she knew Priya’s curiosity was harmless. ‘Besides,’ her inner voice vouched, ‘it is often tough to disguise curiosity. Not to mention wrong’ Nevertheless, she didn’t think she could speak about her mother’s sickness.

“She died,’ Praveena shrugged and opened her book. She wasn’t going to study, but she hoped it would ward Priya off. It didn’t. Priya stood her ground, persistent, “Yeah…” she took it slow, “but how? What happened?” Praveena could tell she tried not to sound too inquisitive, but couldn’t help it.

“What’s your problem?” Praveena lost control. She shut her book with a loud thud, and glared at Priya “don’t you understand what I’ve been trying to tell you?” She stood up so fast that Priya stumbled away from her, scared she might attack her. “I-don’t-what-to-talk-about-it” Praveena retorted through gritted teeth.

Priya looked shocked. “I was just being friendly” she said in a low voice as if she were about to cry, and backed away rapidly.

“Well, you’re doing a bad job of it!” Praveena almost screamed, looking furious. The whole class was looking at the pair of them, and from the corner of her eye, Praveena could see a few girls whispering hurriedly together. She didn’t care. Her anger had taken over. She stood staring as Priya left the class, almost running.

Praveena sat down rubbing her right temple. She did it until the anger subsided. She couldn’t understand what came over her. She felt angry all the time; Priya had only kindled her fury. Why was she so angry at Priya? She hadn’t asked anything wrong, she had only voiced what others couldn’t pick up the courage to do. Praveena knew there was no reason for her outburst and it worried her. ‘Am I going crazy?’ ‘Hello, inner voices? I could use a little help!’ she thought desperately.

She didn’t notice the rest of the class staring open-mouthed at her. Praveena was the quiet girl and it perplexed them to see her losing her temper at the most annoying girl in class.

They gaped, trying to make sense of it all. Just then, Ms Marrie entered the class and everyone hushed up and returned to their places, ready for class.

National Blog Posting Month – Day 13

 

Of Greatness

People talk so much about mothers and the sacrifices they make. For ages, people ignored their mothers and the sacrifices they made for their family.

But that’s changed now. Every mother’s day, people thank their mothers, speak so highly of their greatness and share photos on Facebook to show their gratitude to the rest of the world.

What about the other mothers?

She’s the one who starts work before you’re awake, sweeps your floors, cleans your bathrooms, refills your tissue rolls, clears away your empty cups, dusts your desk, rearranges your dishevelled papers, eats after you, and works on Sundays.

And yet, she’s not your mother.

She’s a maintenance staff. The people who make an office of a piece of construction.

So many of these maintenance staffs are mothers too. And it’s painful to see them working so hard for the people who don’t even spare a second look at them.

Most of them are my mother’s age. Every time I see one of them mopping the floor for the third time in a day, I wonder if I’d want my mother in the same situation.

I wouldn’t. Because it’s a sad job. Because people don’t see you for who you are; people don’t see you at all. And yet, not one of them walks past your place without taking away the cup you were too lazy to throw away. And if you happen to catch their eye, they smile at you — not the false smile you give your boss, but the one your mother gives you. What makes them do that?

I don’t think it’s passion for their work. A sense of conscience? Are they just loyal to their salary?

It’s not about the money. It was never about the money. Yes, it’s their job to clean, but it’s their choice to clean satisfactorily. Because they care. They care about you, they care for me.

It’s the human vulnerability. They look at me and they see their own daughter. The mother within drives them to do more, to do better.

I sat staring at the laptop one morning. It was the festival holidays and the office was almost empty. A maintenance staff came up and asked me why I didn’t go home for the festival holidays. We spoke for a while and she wondered aloud how hard it must be, living in a foreign city, away from family, not being able to go home for the holidays without getting crushed under poor roads and the terrible traffic of monsoon rains.

She works a 12-hour shift and her every break is valuable. She didn’t have to spend her time talking to me. But she did. She spent her free time consoling me. She didn’t know why I didn’t go home, she didn’t know I was too lazy to trudge through traffic.

She just assumed I couldn’t go, never once suspecting that I didn’t want to go. Because she’s a mother. And mothers don’t judge.

If that’s not great, what is?

Written for a contest run by Tata Motors to promote their campaign, #madeofgreat.

Chapter Eleven: Revelations

Nothing could have prepared Praveena for the days that followed. The funeral was held in their house. Geetha was in a glass box, set the living room where the couch used to sit. Seeing her mother laying there lifeless, Praveena painfully thought back to the conversations the two of them had had, sitting on the couch, sipping hot tea. Such a bad case of nostalgia overcame her that she couldn’t bear the thought of facing the ceremony.

She retreated to her room, as the house filled up with friends and relatives she didn’t know her mother had had. She had met none of them during these thirteen years of her life. But everyone seemed to know her. There was a group of old women who sat in a circle weeping and mourning. Looking at them, Praveena felt a sense of dread and hatred rise within her. ‘Who are these people, and why are they lamenting my mother?’ her anger flared, ‘Where were these people when she needed them most — when she was sick?’

Praveena looked at them with contempt as they all line up to pay their respects to a body they hadn’t bothered to call on when she lived. They, on the other hand, misunderstood her annoyance for sadness.

But Praveena was far from sad; she was mourning her mother more than anyone else ever would in a lifetime, but she was more worried at their pretense. They all seemed to care.

A middle aged woman had walked over to Praveena earlier. Showing all her betel-stained teeth, she had said, “Don’t you worry little girl. Everything’s going to be alright. What’s your name, again?”

Praveena thought she must have tried to console her, but she sounded far from it. They were nothing more than empty words. Praveena could say the woman was being civilized and well mannered; she meant non of her words, her false smile was too easy to see through. She was not the only one though, everyone showed they cared, in a way that proved they didn’t.

Parveena had had enough. She went to her room, locked herself inside and sat cross-legged on the bed. She wanted to cry but didn’t. A mix of emotions ran amok inside her head. She didn’t know what to feel. Her mother had gone, leaving Praveena and her father with civilized animals who lived to please others and worried only about their social status.

She shook her head in exasperation. “Why is everybody so bad?” she wondered a little too loud and angry.

‘That’s the nature of people, you’ll have to live with it’ It was her inner voice again.

“Stupid people, don’t you think?” Parveena questioned. She had gotten used to conversing with her inner voices. Alone now, she could speak aloud to herself without people thinking she had gone mad with grief.

‘Yes.’ It was so simple. People are stupid. They do stupid things for stupid reasons. It’s human. But people are also selfish and greedy and evil. That’s not human; that’s a choice. Somewhere along the way, people tend to give in to the temptation of greed.

‘Why though?’ Praveena wondered. ‘Why do people want more than they already have? Why aren’t people ever happy?’

It’s the kind of conversation she would have had with her mother. Now she’d have it with herself.

‘We are raised to believe that we are better than other creatures.’

Her inner voice had given her the answer. “True”, she agreed, we believe that we are better than other animals, and in the same way, we tend to believe that we are higher than other humans. We love to show our power over them, just to prove our belief. “How stupid of us.” She exclaimed in conclusion, shaking her head.

Suddenly, she felt like sharing this with someone. “Ma!” she called out without thinking.

Reality came crashing down on her head.

‘Ma is dead.’ — Inner voice again.

Praveena held her head in her hands, her excitement ebbing away. She lay back on her bed, eyes wide open and mind racing.

‘You look for answers outside, when you already have it within you. Look deep enough, and you’ll find it.’

Praveena silently agreed, staring at the swirling fan.

National Blog Posting Month – Day 12

Chapter Ten: The Loss

Praveena was interrupted in Andrew’s class the next afternoon. The principal wanted to meet her. Annoyed and a little curious at the same time, she made her way as slow as possible, to the principal’s room.

Again, as she passed Ms Marrie’s room, she saw her reading. Their eyes locked, and Praveena sped up. When she reached the principal’s office, she knocked once and was asked to enter.

As soon as she entered, Principal Vanitha spoke. “You’re mother’s ill. Your father is coming to get you. Wait”. The principal was careful never to betray emotion in her tone — not that she felt any. In her five years as the principal, she had seen countless students and parents who fell ill and then recovered. It was just another day for her.

Not for Praveena though. She didn’t know what to say or do. She stood stunned, staring at the principal like she’d thrown a dumbbell at her face.

“Wait outside,” the principal snapped and waved her away. Praveena turned, her feet carrying her outside the office. The look on her face was fixed and her face had become rather white.

She didn’t have to wait long though. After about ten minutes of confused wondering, the school security guard escorted her father to her. Too scared to utter a single word, Praveena followed her father. The huge lump in her chest was growing with every step she took.

A tough twenty-minute ride later, Kamal was rushing inside a building with a huge banner: The National Cancer Institute. Praveena quickened her strides. She barely noticed the people she passed as she followed her father. She had never been in here before; her parents had always visited this place while she was in school. Nurses rushed to and fro without paying the slightest attention to anyone else. A few patients in wheelchairs were on the move continuously. Praveena almost knocked into an old bald man. “I’m sorry” she hastily whispered, rushing. Her mouth had gone dry. The building seemed to stretch a long way.

In the farthest corner of a long corridor, Kamal stopped in front of a door with a large number seven embedded on it. Praveena rushed to him. Signaling her to be quiet, Kamal opened the door and went inside.

Praveena peeped in and saw her mother. The pillows on either side of her made her appear much thinner than she was. She had tubes connecting to her wrist and her nostrils. The overwhelming scent of medicine and the sight of her mother made Praveena dizzy. She swayed on the spot. Kamal was by her side in an instant. “She’s got Jaundice” he whispered to her.

She didn’t need her father to explain what that meant. Wikipedia and countless other online magazines had given her all the information she needed. Since Geetha’s diagnosis, Praveena had scoured the Internet for anything she could find about the ailment that would take her mother away from her.

Jaundice was the final sign that Death was approaching. Fast.

The thought made Praveena shiver. She could hear her heart beating fast as if it wanted to get away from the cage it was imprisoned.

Praveena sat in a chair away from the bed, staring at the limp and unrecognizable figure on the bed. How could this happen to her? Why did it happen? She couldn’t think straight and she couldn’t cry. Her mind wailed like an injured dog, but no tears fell from her eyes. She just sat and stared.

Praveena stayed with her mother at the hospital. Geetha has stopped eating and drinking, her skin became a pale yellow, and the look of it sent a chill of dread through Praveena’s spine.

Praveena wanted to hear her mother’s voice, she longed to hear from her mother that everything would be alright. Praveena was ready to believe even in the impossible, if it came from her mother. But she knew it wouldn’t happen.

Her mother was leaving her and she had to watch, heartbroken and helpless.

Geetha died on Friday.

Praveena had just brought a bunch of tulips into Geetha’s room. For the two days she was in the hospital, Praveena bought fresh flowers to put in the vase next to the bed. Tulips were Geetha’s favourite.
Whenever Praveena walked by the bed to place the flowers in the vase, Geetha would follow her with her eyes and watch in silence, a tiny smile playing on her lips.

On Friday morning, Praveena placed the flowers and looked eagerly at her mother’s reaction, only to find her face turned towards the vase, eyes closed.

Perplexed, Praveena went over to her father, who sat in the chair going through some medical files.

“Pa?” she asked tentatively.

“Hmm?” Kamal responded without looking up. He hadn’t slept well in two days and it showed in his eyes; they were sunken and red. His blue shirt was creased beyond any repair that an iron could do, and his soul was hurt more than he let show.

“Why is Ma still asleep?”

Kamal detected the fear in her voice. He stood and walked up to the bed in one swift motion. He took Geetha’s wrist with shaking hands.

With a shocked expression on his face he backed away from the bed in a rush. Geetha’s hand limply fell on to the bed.

He rushed outside, stumbling in the doorway, to get the doctor. Praveena had backed into the wall, clutching the cold stone for warmth. Kamal was back within the minute accompanied by the doctor. The doctor examined Geetha and delivered the blow.

Praveena stood stunned and watched in horrified silence as her father and everyone else around her reacted feverishly. It made no sense to her, it was all in a rushed blur. She didn’t need the doctor to confirm her fear; Kamal’s look had done that already.
Praveena understood.

Her mother had left her life.

 

National Blog Posting Month – Day 11