Tag: family

Chapter Eight: Facing the Truth

It was dinner time. Kamal had come home directly from school and filled in Geetha. Neither of them said anything to Praveena as they sat down to eat. It didn’t bother her either, she assumed her mother had spoken to her father and advised him to rest the matter.

They ate in silence, which wasn’t new to the family. When they finished, Kamal opted to help Geetha do the dishes while Praveena took the couch and switched on the television.

She was switching channels without particular interest in anything when the movie channel came on. All of a sudden she paused, her thumb hovering over the ‘Next’ button. The Batman movie was on. She loved those movies. For a split second she watched Jim Gordon hugging his wife and then pressed the ‘Next’ button.

Geetha noticed it, but said nothing.

Just then, Kamal came back in to the living room and he and Geetha sat on either side of Praveena. She was surprised as her mother took her hand. It was cold. Praveena noticed that her mother was almost completely bald, and had lost so much weight in such a short time.

“We went to the doctor today” Geetha said in an even voice. Praveena waited, not wanting to hear the words that would follow.

“And he said everything’s fine!” Kamal said brightly and a little urgently. His smile was fixed and eyes so wide that it put Praveena off a little. She gave him a blank stare, and his smile faltered as he dropped his eyes.

“No.” Geetha denied firmly, giving her husband a stern look. She didn’t want to lie to her daughter. Praveena deserved the truth, even if it was terrifying. “he said, I’ll have one month to cook everything you love.” She smiled as if it called for a celebration.

Praveena took her mother’s hand in both of hers, and held it close to her heart. Geetha’s hand was cold but it spread warmth in Praveena. She wanted to bury her head in her mother’s shoulders and cry, cry till she had shed all the tears she could. She didn’t though. She didn’t want to spill even a drop of tear in front of her mother.

She didn’t know how long she sat like that.

———–

Praveena awoke with a jolt. Jumping out of bed, she ran to the kitchen. Geetha wasn’t there. She rushed to her parents’ room and found Geetha asleep.

She stood in the doorway, breathing heavily, too scared to move. Kamal came up to her from the adjoining room and touched her arm. She reeled to face him with fear all over her face.

Kamal put a finger to his lips and gestured her to follow him. Closing the door with a soft click, he led her to her room.

“Thank goodness you didn’t wake her!” He exclaimed sounding surprised and a little nonplussed. “why are you up so early?”

“I don’t know” Praveena mumbled confused. She was relieved. She sat cross-legged on the bed. “I — just woke,” she shrugged looking up into her father’s eyes that failed to hide his pain.

He gave her a reassuring smile and caressed her head. “That’s ok. Now try to get some sleep before you get ready for school, you’re way too early.” He left, shutting the door behind him with a sharp click.

Praveena lay on her back staring at the ceiling. She was scared to go back to sleep. Her mother had been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer on the first of November, the day after her birthday. From that day onwards, she hadn’t been the same with her mother. She was struck with an inexplicable grief she didn’t know how to get over. Each time she saw her mother, she thought of her approaching death and it made her heart ache in a way she had never felt before. She hadn’t told anyone at school about her mother. It was her secret; her sorrow. Even if she did tell anyone, they would never understand how she felt. Sure, they’d say they do, and they would even act like they cared. But she didn’t want that. She didn’t need people pitying her and making her more miserable than she already was.

Thoughts kept swirling inside Praveena’s brain as she gazed at the ceiling fan without really seeing it.

It bothered her that she hadn’t told her mother how much she mattered to her. She couldn’t manage say it, despite feeling it. She loved her mother more than anything else in the world. Not just because she was her mother, but because she was the only person who would listen to her speak — even if Praveena was boring her, she had never shown any signs of avoiding her. For Praveena, her mother was her first and only friend. Letting her go would be more difficult than anyone could ever imagine.

Even now, she couldn’t think of her mother as another person, she felt like it was a part of herself that was dying with numbing pain in the body and heart…

———–

Praveena looked at the large wall clock facing her. It was seven o’clock. She began to get ready for school; she had a lot to concentrate on today.

Her mother sat on the couch as she entered the living room. “Breakfast, dear?” she asked. That was new, Praveena realized. Her mother never asked her if she wanted any breakfast; she’d always eat at school. Maybe Geetha knew what was coming.

“No, Ma. I’m not hungry.”

Geetha smiled at her, a little too knowingly.

Her father walked right in from his morning walk, “I’m starving!” he exclaimed to the room at large, rubbing his stomach. Geetha smiled and made to rise from the couch. “Don’t bother,” he added waving at her, “I’ll get it.” and he walked right past the couch and stopped to look at Praveena who stood watching. “How about you?”

Praveena shook her head. “Not hungry. I’m off. Bye.” Kamal waved her goodbye and went inside to get his breakfast. Praveena waved at her mother and added, “Take care, Ma”.

Geetha smiled as she waved, “I will.”

National Blog Posting Month – Day 9

Chapter Seven: Bitten

‘Maybe you should have spoken to her,’ one of Praveena’s inner voices surfaced. She was in class, with a blank stare plastered on her face as her English teacher explained Confusibles.

‘Please don’t start,’ Praveena thought. ‘I’m already confused’.

‘OK, but I still think — ‘

‘SHUT UP!’ Praveena almost said audibly. The few students, who sat around her, heard it and sniggered. The teacher missed it though, she was clarifying the brightest student’s doubts.

No other voice showed up, but Praveena’s mind had begun racing. Ms Marrie had been right, she needed to talk to someone. It was as if her head had too many thoughts to hold. But she wondered if Ms Marrie was the right person. She found it hard to trust Ms Marrie, or anyone for that matter; her mother, father, her class mates — everyone. ‘What if they avoid me thinking I’m crazy because I talk to my own head?’

“Preveena!” she heard her name being called out from afar.

“PRAVEENA!” It sounded a bit close now. Someone shook her shoulders hard. She came out of her reverie, ‘Huh?’

Her teacher stood over her, a gigantic figure looming over Praveena, “I asked you a question” she said, gritting her teeth and pronouncing every word deliberately.

Praveena returned a mute glassy look, not quite understanding what Ms Selima said.

“Get out.” she snapped heated.

Praveena understood that, and left the room. She stood outside the class wondering what she had done to deserve the punishment.

Some fifteen minutes later, the bell rang and out walked Ms Selima. She took one stern look at Praveena and spoke with badly concealed distaste, “Follow me, we’re going to the principal’s room.” Parveena didn’t miss the note of malice in her voice.

She followed without protest.

As they walked past Ms Marrie’s room, Praveena caught sight of Marrie, reading with a cup of tea by her side. She looked up from her book as they passed the window and Praveena thought she saw a dawning look on her face, though she couldn’t have known what had happened.

They reached the principal’s room. It was painted grey and Praveena had already been there once before that day. Ms Selima gave a curt knock and entered, with Praveena dragging in herself. For some reason, she felt sleepy. She stifled a yawn with difficulty.

“Ahem, what do we have here?”

There she was, seated on a huge yellow cushion chair. It was difficult to discern where the cushion ended, seeing as the principal also wore yellow. But it was not the colour of her dress that caught Praveena’s and the attention of everyone else who entered the room; it was the colour of her table cloth, which was a bright blue. To see the blue against an equally bright backdrop was enough to pain anyone’s eyes. When people looked away, the principal assumed it was out of respect and fear that no one faced her.

It happened again. The table cloth stunned Ms Selima into silence for a minute. ‘Perhaps she had never been in here since the makeover happened.’ thought Praveena smugly. Ms Selima recovered soon enough though.

“Madam, this girl wasn’t paying attention in my class.” Ms Selima announced jubilantly. “Again.” she added as an afterthought.

‘Powerful’ Praveena’s inner voice offered appreciatively. ‘ gain?’ Praveena wondered quietly, ‘ o she’s been complaining about me? I wonder how many times had she done that?’

The principal peered at her, expecting an apology, or a plea. When neither came, she asked for it.

“What do you have to say, girl?” She resounded pushing her huge wire-rimmed glasses further up her nose. It sounded to Praveena as if she had waited all day to bite a student.

“My name’s Praveena, not ‘girl’”

Silence. Both women stared at her as if she had just told them they were stupid. Praveena tried hard to hide her glee. She didn’t know what made her say it, but she hated it when people called her by anything other than her name.

She had infuriated the principal, she knew it. She didn’t care though. The principal spoke and Praveena noticed a slice of malice in her tone.

“Alright, Praveena,” she made an extra emphasis on her name, “knowing your name makes it easier for me to locate your parents’ phone number.” She made Ms Salima fetch the class register. She looked up Praveena’s name and called Kamal.

‘Nasty old woman,’ thought Praveena as she heard the principal speak to her father rudely. It was a short conversation, she demanded to see him immediately and hung up without giving him time to respond.

Kamal promised to arrive in ten minutes — he always did. Until then, Praveena was told to stand outside the principal’s room while Ms Selima told the principal all about her behavior in class. As she stood waiting, she saw Mr Andrew enter the room. He neither looked at her nor respond when she greeted him good afternoon — more out of duty than of respect.

When Kamal arrived, escorted by the security, he looked at Praveena questioningly. She shrugged in response.

Ms Selima came out and instructed Kamal and Praveena to follow her into the office. They did.

Inside, once the usual eye-strain was over with, Principal Vanitha started her tirade.

She told Kamal about Praveena not concentrating in classes, and added more on how she disturbed the other students as well. She also brought in her witnesses, Ms Selima and Mr Andrew who certified Praveena was out of control.

Kamal was visibly shocked. He hadn’t expected to hear so many negative traits about his daughter in one day. She was his princess, how could she disappoint him like this? He was more worried than angry.

He apologized for Praveena’s misbehaviour, and assured them she would behave well from now on.

“Won’t you?” he turned a stern eye at her.

Praveena betrayed no emotion. She wasn’t angry at her father, she was angry at the school and the teachers. “I will.” she responded flatly. She wanted nothing more than to leave the place.

Several times during the meeting, she looked at Andrew but he never met her eyes. She hated him now, and he knew it. She was ashamed to have trusted this man at all.

Kamal didn’t say a word to her after that. She followed him to the gate silently, and just as he was about to leave, Ms Marrie came up to them.

“May I have a word with you, Mr Kamal?”

Praveena moved away, and watched them talk. They spoke for a couple of minutes. Kamal mostly listened and nodded. His face was impassive. When he turned to leave, he raised a hand at Praveena, smiled lightly, and walked away. Praveena heard him whistling her favourite song.

Chapter Two: Early Days – As told in the Diary

November 1, 1996
Diary,

Praveena turned eight yesterday, and I am so proud of her. She’s grown into such a darling — my darling. I love her more than I can ever tell her in words. There’s just one thing that bugs me though: she watches too much of cartoons. I know, and it’s not like there’s a problem with that or anything, but isn’t it unhealthy to sit in front of the television for such long hours? I don’t want her to fall prey to obesity or, worse still, spectacles. It’s such a bad thing that you can’t see things without spectacles, it’s like being dependent on something. I know because that’s my life. I should tell her that; she should take care of herself a bit more.

Geetha tells me that I worry too much about Praveena. But how can I not worry? She’s my daughter. But Geetha’s right too, maybe I should allow Praveena to figure things out for herself.

You know Diary, Praveena and Geetha — they are so much like each other. Sometimes, her confidence and her conviction surprises me. She wants to be a superhero. Ha! Imagine that! It’s a childhood fantasy, I know. But she doesn’t, and what’s more, she says she’s figured it all out. She tells me, even though she has no superpowers like Superman or Spiderman, she could change the world by just doing the right thing. “Like Batman,” she says.

I was stupefied. She’s eight! And she speaks like she’s much older. I couldn’t believe it. Again, Geetha advised me to just listen and nod on. “She’s just a child, Kamal” she keeps telling me, and I’ve decided to listen to her.

After all, mother knows best. Right?

Goodnight.

November 3, 1996
Dear Diary,

I heard some distressing news last night. A kid, some nine or ten year old, got so immersed in Spiderman, and believing he could jump from one building to another, jumped from a building.

Goodness, I didn’t know how to react when I heard this. I was so worried as if the kid was my own; how his parents would have felt! They would have cursed themselves for allowing their kid anywhere near that franchise. They would have thought that it was no harm – who would? Just like I feel about Praveena and her obsession with Batman. Oh, what do I do now? I thought it was okay, but now after this news, I’m worried. Should I restrict Praveena?

I’m too confused.

Goodnight.

November 12, 1996
Dear Diary,

I am so relieved. I spoke to Praveena about the kid who jumped off the building, and I ended up wondering why I hadn’t spoken to her sooner.

I was wondering how to begin when she started the matter herself. It seems she had noticed my “bad mood”, as she called it.

There I was, staring at her Batman dolls while she watched TV. All of a sudden, she exclaimed, “Don’t worry Pa, I am not stupid enough to jump off a building.”

I was startled. How did she know what I had been thinking? She went on, “I know superheroes don’t exist in the real world. When I said I wanted to be a superhero, I meant, I want to help people. That’s all.”

You can imagine the rush of love that swept over me. I stood up and hugged her. I couldn’t tell describe to her the relief that ran through my veins. I slept well that night, and a few nights later. That’s why I couldn’t tell you about it earlier. *Yawn*

Goodnight.

October 31, 2001
Dear Diary,

It’s Praveena’s birthday! She’s now thirteen; a teenager. Wow, how soon time flies! I didn’t even realize the years passing. It seems only like yesterday that I had shaved my beard for the first time since college. And so soon, Praveena’s a teenager!

As always, Geetha and I baked a small coffee cake – her favourite. She didn’t want to invite any of her friends this time, so it was just the three of us.

Geetha tried calling her parents — just to tell them that Praveena was growing faster than we’d like — but they didn’t respond, as usual. And I stopped calling my folks two years ago — there’s just no use.

Anyway, Praveena got herself a nice dress for her birthday. You know the drill; she gets her own birthday present – happening for the third year this time. She’s such an independent kid, you know, that’s the way she does it. Sometimes it terrifies me, but — no questions asked, Geetha’s rule.

Besides the dress, she bought Nelson Mandela’s autobiography (I know! Only thirteen!) and a Batman comic. I don’t know what joy she gets from reading the comics, but she does it everyday. Anyway, I stopped worrying a long time ago. I’m just happy.

Goodnight.

November 25, 2001
Dear Diary,

Today, I went shopping with Praveena. That’s when I realized, she’s so unlike other kids her age. She seems to hate being around people. She doesn’t behave like others, and I’m starting to wonder if she needs help.

She’s so short tempered nowadays. She even shouted at Geetha yesterday. It’s surprising. She’s never behaved like this before. She locks herself in her room and either sleeps all day or busies herself with homework.

I know that she has mountains of homework — and I do plan to talk to her teacher about it — but even when she’s not doing homework, she’s scribbling something or the other in her diary. You know sometimes I wonder whether she got that from me and whether it’s a good thing at all. I mean, she never tells us what she feels — isn’t that a bad sign?

She seems such a mystery to me. I can’t understand what she’s thinking, and she isn’t helping me to help her either.

Geetha’s health, on the other hand, is is steadily deteriorating. On our last checkup, doctors narrowed her health to another eight to ten months. She’s active and on her feet, busy with the house work, but I can see the cancer getting to her. Her hair’s no more and her eyes look more tired than I have ever seen them. Each time I see her, I feel like weeping. She smiles at me in the same way she did every other time, but I can sense the weakly concealed pain.

I can’t tell her — or anyone, for that matter — but, it makes me so sad that we only had so few years together. It pains me so much to have to see her leave me and Praveena all alone. She has always been such a great support, and going into the future without her would be like stepping into the unknown oblivion. But I’ll have to do it. For Praveena.

That’s it for today.
Goodnight.

Chapter One | Chapter Three

A Day of Duties

duties

We all live in a world where we have tasks to complete and responsibilities to uphold. At home, at work, in the street, in public places — everywhere we go, we have to abide to certain rules and regulations. We call it law and order, control and regulations. We call ourselves civilized because we follow rules we set upon ourselves.

And it so happens that these rules and regulations are aplenty, and as a consequence we get to prioritize our needs, our tasks based on the rules that we insist on. For instance, I have a task to complete by the end of the day. It’s office work, urgent and my job depends on it. On the other hand, my wife is pregnant and we’re expecting the baby any day now. To cap the situation, my boss is out of town, and wouldn’t know even if I put off the task ’til tomorrow. I just pinged my boss, affirming that I’d finish the job when my phone rings — it’s my wife.

According to the “rules” I should stick to morals, which is to finish the job. Because a) my wife didn’t sound distressed. Yet. And b) my mom’s at home taking care of my wife. It’s understandable if I go home a little late.

But when I weigh my priorities, my wife and child are my life. My job just feeds my stomach, but my family feeds my soul.

In that moment of urge, I drop my work — no one would know anyway — and head home. The baby doesn’t come for another 36 hours. But I was there, with my family, supporting my wife. And that meant the whole world to me.

Which is all nice and emotional.

Now what happens to my boss? He was expecting a reply tonight, and I wasn’t there. He called me, and I didn’t pick up. I knew he would be furious with me. He must’ve tried to contact me online, offline and through my colleagues. And all he would’ve got was an ignoring bastard.

Did I have a choice? Could I have told him how important it was for me to be with my family? Sure I could have, but he wouldn’t have understood. Because his children are grown ups, he was a widower, and had nothing to home to.

His work was his life. And he wouldn’t understand when someone else insisted that their work wasn’t their life.

And so, I ignored him. But I couldn’t ignore my job; I checked in on work from my mobile phone from the hospital cafeteria. My boss had left messages and mails. All he wanted was a response. And all I wanted was my wife to remain strong.

I spoke to a few of my colleagues, asked them to cover for me. They said they would, but I know they wouldn’t hold under pressure — they have families too.

The truth is, my job is vital. I’ll lose everything if I lose my job. I am well aware of it. I have no back up plans. But my family was important too. I was torn between the two, until I decided to choose my family. And now to defend my choice, I have to run away from the truth that keeps threatening my next rise and paycheck.

Don’t we all do that sometimes? Run away from the truth hoping that ignoring it might somehow make it go away?

*Fiction. Really. Replace the ‘family’ with movie marathon, and that sounds more like me.

Speaking of Sentimentality…

If there’s one thing I know for sure, it’s that sentiment is a double-sided dagger. ​As much as I love being sentimental about tiny everyday things, I also regret being ever so emotional.

I know I keep bringing this up, but it’s all about my mother. She annoys me more than anyone else can — or will ever dare to; she calls me at awkward times, keeps repeating the same questions every day, and she’s always popping up everywhere –even when I wish she wouldn’t.

It’s annoying to have a mother that cares so much. ​But it’s painful not to have a mother that cares as much.

Perhaps it’s because she was always around me as I grew up, but I’ve grown comfortable around her so much that I take the liberty to shout at her without feeling guilty. She made a huge blunder not curtailing that habit of mine. Still, she takes it all in as I shout at her, because she knows I mean not a word of it.

And once I hang up and stare at my phone, realizing how much she must love me to bear with all my mood swings, I can’t help but feel evil. With her being everywhere — even at the back of my mind while I wake in the morning — I care much about her.

I don’t know about her, but every twelve hours, I have an internal alarm that goes off reminding me that it’s time for her pills. And despite having alarms in her phone, she forgets, and nods her head solemnly as I chide her for abysmal medicine memory.

​That’s the trouble with caring too much — it hurts me when she’s hurting. I’ve seen what she goes through when she forgets her medicine, and it pains me to even imagine that pain.

And it gets even more annoying when she just shrugs it off with a ​toothy laugh. On one hand, I love watching her laugh, and on the other, I’m furious that she’s so negligent.

She checks with me five times a day if I had eaten my ​proper meals, and in the proper time, but she never takes her medicines in the proper time.

Urgh! Her sentiment often puts me off. So much nagging and caring for me, yet not much caring for herself. But it also makes me call her back a second — or third — time, to apologize in a small voice.

​After all, moms are the best, aren’t they?