Remember that day, when I found a condom in Appa’s bag, and innocently asked you “Amma , whats a condom? Can I open it and see what it looks like?” I think of your reaction everyday now and have a good laugh.
How I hated you then ! The Little me didn’t realize that we would grow up to be best friends .
We miss you , Ma ! There’s no one in the universe who can talk as much as you can. I stopped writing after your death. But I still feel your presence around me sometimes. Sometimes, when I run late in the mornings, a beggar screams on the road outside and wakes me up. I wake up with a start, thinking it’s you screaming in pain, in want of something, and rush to your room…only to find Dad peacefully sleeping like a baby.
Whenever this happens, I wonder – Is it you in disguise, Ma? Trying to wake me up so that I don’t run late?
Dad and me are getting along fine. I try my best everyday to not keep up my promise of taking care of Dad. You promised to come back as a ghost to haunt me if I didn’t take care of your darling hubby after you died . So I’m not taking care of him . Keep up your word and come back now. We will still love you even if you’re a ghost. Promise. Cross my heart .
Except for that aspect I’m doing all that I can to finish what you started. I continue to educate the five children whose education we started to sponsor together when you were working. I will continue to do so till they graduate. All of your clothes have been donated to people in need. On the 10th and 13th day after your death, we held no functions. We donated the expenses to Anandashram and Prerana resource center for blind women according to your wishes. I plan to give away all of your medicines to Karunashraya, a home for cancer patients. I even took Dad on a holiday to Coorg after the 13th day. We are not moaning your death, but rather are happy that you’re at peace. So I continue to put a rangoli on our doorstep every day. We have decided to not put your picture up in the pooja room. The sight of it would take us back to times when you were healthy & smiling, and make us feel helpless everyday . You live in our hearts, in our recipes, and in all of the pickles we make.
You know, Dad and me had a “Pickle making competition”. We both made a bottle each of lime pickle , and mine tasted better. Not better than your’s , though ! Dad has even started making “karudams” and “vadams” just like you used to.
Do you miss us, Ma? Who listens to your 24 * 7 chatter now? Don’t people tell you to just “Shut up” for five minutes ?If the God you believe in really exists, he must have had enough of you in less than an hour and sent your soul back to earth for re birth!
Much as I smile on the outside, your thoughts keep haunting me all the time. I still arrive every day, half expecting to see you with your resplendent red bindi in a night dress open the door.
I really miss you , Ma. So does Dad. He misses you much , much , much more than I do. It kills me almost everyday to think that we could do nothing but watch you deteriorate and die – helplessly.
But then, I realize that you’re probably at peace where you are now. Minus the cancer.. Minus the pain that comes along with it. The thought of you smiling wherever you are keeps me smiling now.