Tag: parenting

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

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 Three: Trying Times

November 25, 2001.

Praveena lay on her bed, staring at the ceiling fan. It rotated at maximum speed, and she was tried to make out the wings; it was her favourite past time. Whenever she felt sad, happy — or anything at all — she would lock herself inside her room and stare at the fan. It tired her eyes and helped her fall asleep. She needed a lot of that too; her workload was mounting higher than ever before.

It was just another stressful Thursday; she had been told to write a two-page essay on “Life in Renaissance.” She didn’t understand the point of studying the causes and effects of something that was already gone. What’s the use? She could only wonder.

Shaking her head in disbelief, she imagined, for a moment, asking the same question of her History teacher. She would have regretted her existence by now. Boy, that old hag had a way of insulting anyone who had anything against the word “ istory.” He would peer down at students with his magnified eyes and start tutoring about the greatness of history and the value historical research. A widower, Mr Andrew lived in his huge ancestral property. No one sees him in the neighbourhood except when he leaves for work and when he returns. He never went out during the weekends, and visitors were an unlikely possibility. It was always a source of great entertainment for the kids at school to wonder and spin stories about what he did all alone, all day shut up in that house. They knew more than half of the building was unoccupied. They would imagine and share stories of ghosts and vampires, considering and reconsidering the chances of Mr Andrew being a vampire.

People said Andrew had quite a semblance to Edward Cullen — except the complexion of course — and the age. Mr Andrew certainly looked his age, which would be around fifty five.

Come to think of it, Praveena couldn’t recall why Andrew was said to be similar to Edward at all. She saw hardly any similarity. Mr Andrew was thin, yes, and could have been a handsome youth, but he did absolutely hate being out in the sun.

And unlike the twilight vampire, Mr Andrew had a large pile of untidy grey hair, an oversized and badly tucked in belly, and an uncanny interest in peanuts. That would surely rule him out as a vampire, Praveena thought. Though she would have loved to give into the idea.

The fan was still spinning, and now so was Praveena’s head. The next moment, she was fast asleep. Her room was a mess, and Praveena’s surroundings expressed her mind. The area of her bed in which she wasn’t sleeping was laden with clothes both washed and otherwise, giving no room for her pillow which now had collected dust under the bed. Her usually well-swept room was covered in a kind of a pungent stench that she had become accustomed to.

She hadn’t let the maid in to clean her room the previous week. She wanted to do it herself, but she was overcome with too much workload that she barely slept nowadays. She didn’t know what kept her awake all night, but she knew that it wasn’t going to end soon. She knew that she had to wait with open arms for sleep to embrace her.

It did now, and she slept. And then she slept a little more.

Praveena woke up the next morning and felt like a new person. She had slept well, and it showed in her eyes. She washed, got dressed in record time and went to meet her mother in the kitchen.

Her mother was there, setting up a humble breakfast with the little strength she could muster.

“Good morning, Ma!” she said, and smiled as wide as she could. Her mother turned to her and smiled; a smile that she gave only Praveena, a loving smile that only Praveena could interpret. It was the same smile that she had given Praveena every day of her life, whether or not her daughter noticed it.

“Morning, dear” Geetha replied. “how about an early breakfast, huh?” Even as she placed the round dish on the polished table, Praveena noticed that her mother had lost her pace. Her eyes had begun to sink in, and she had tied a scarf on her balding head. She knew that her mother’s pancreatic cancer had weakened her a lot, but she had hardly noticed.

“Maybe a little later, Ma. Where’s Pa?” Praveena sat down and gestured her mother to do the same. She pulled out a chair which Geetha took, stumbling a little.

“Out, on his usual walk.” smiled Geetha, “You seem to have slept well last night,” she observed without wavering in her smile. Praveena nodded. “good. You need to get a lot of sleep at this age. Never deny your body the rest it deserves.”

That struck Praveena. Drawing her courage, she spoke, for the first time about her mother’s condition, “What about you, Ma? You need the rest too. Why do you still strain yourself so much?” She could feel her eyes searing and fought back a tear. “You’ve already done your duty” she added as an afterthought.

Geetha smiled. It was a simple smile, there was no pathos or self pity in that smile. It was a tolerant smile that one gives while explaining to an unbelieving toddler that one plus one makes two. “It’s not about duty; it was never my duty to raise you. It was out of love. If I am spending my little time for you, it means that I care about you, and your dad. It has noting to with duty.” She shook her head gently explaining to her little daughter that, despite having such a short time with her, she loved her more than anything. Geetha wheezed and took a deep breath, tired.

Praveena no longer felt happy.

Chapter Two | Chapter Four

The Weirdness That Is Life

weird thing...

Weird thing, life.

One year you’re as close as overgrown nails and skin, and the next thing you know, you’re shaking hands, and wishing your friend a “happy married life” part ways — to meet again probably never.

And a few years later, you hear of a child — a sweet girl with rosy lips, cherry cheeks with a smile as warm as your friendship had once been.

And then comes the routine of raising kids — the phase of life where you lose yourself for your kids, their life and their routine: you eat when they sleep, you pee when they sleep and you sleep never. Running around carrying drenched diapers in one hand and fresh ones in the other, you don’t even have the time to reply to the tiny “ping” that your smartphone isn’t smart enough to mute.

Time goes by, and with every extra inch of luscious tresses the daughter caresses, you end up rolling up inches of the grey hair you just managed to pull out from your morning combing ritual. The bounce decays, curling humbly into a neat bun, snuggled out of the way.

Those rimless fancy glasses appear less and less attractive as your definition of attractiveness transcends to comfort and horn-rimmed.

Sleeveless and showing skin hits you as awkward and vulgar. You constantly ponder, “Where’s the world going?” as short skirts become inner wear and below-the-knee becomes the only decent and suitable length. Sequins and glitter stones weigh you down; black, white and grey look more like colors; grace means something different altogether, and walking becomes mandatory exercise.

Gentle knee rubs are the new leisure activity, though stumbling with latest technology isn’t new at all. You stare at old tree barks wondering, your mind wandering, and your fingers fumbling on the phone, wishing for the familiar ringtone — the ringtone that’s been in the coming for some time now.

And one bright summer’s day, the phone would ring, and you would again fumble in your haste to pick up, in your haste to speak to someone —  anyone who’d listen. And someone speaks; says they have a message — not a good message they say, and say: your closest nail has been clipped.

You bleed.

And then, you heal… until you’re clipped — once and for all.

Weird thing… life.