Tag Archives: son

Of People and Things.

Naksh was singing at the top of his voice! “Papparah Papparah Papparah… Badtameez Dil Badtameez Dil… Ahh… Haan

“Oh shut that radio thing off and stop jumping on the bed,” Shailjaa scolded her eight year old son, Naksh!

No longer jumping, he smiled at her and stood there, the hand held radio his father bought as a gift, still blaring what people called music these days!

She was still angry at him but this child of hers could not be least bothered! He’d misplaced her earrings and she couldn’t find it anywhere. She was sure she’d given to him to go and keep it by the bedside table. She’d even boxed his ears two hours ago but he came back and sat beside her in no time! Now he was jumping on the bed unashamed.

“Get out,” she said, dropping the freshly ironed bed covers and pillow cases on the bed. “I have to change the bed sheet.”

“Mummy, I am sorry,” he said, and walked out of the room, forlorn and dejected, head hung.

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Shailjaa didn’t reply.

She pulled off the old covers angrily. Unfurling the new covers, she went to the headboard side and struggled to pick up the mattress alone to push the new covers beneath. Something fell from behind the mattress onto the floor beneath. She bent down and looked under the four poster bed. Two pieces of gold shone out to her. One within her reach, the other rolled off to the other end. She crawled under the bed and got her hands on both the pieces. She craned her neck upwards to look at the bed from under. A coffee flavored toffee was sticking out from behind the mattress, fighting gravity, pinched in place. She pulled it out too and crawled back out from under the bed. She sat on the floor, head resting on the bed, turning the earrings back and forth. They were the ones for which she’d boxed her son’s ears. She felt terrible, devastated almost. She now recalled picking it from the bedside table and having kept it on the bed. They must have gotten wedged between the mattress and the headboard during the course of the night. She lay her head on her knees and held herself close. She sat that way for more than a few minutes and swore to herself she’d put people over things here onwards.

Getting up from her place on the floor, she went out of the bedroom to look for her son. He was standing in the balcony, listening to the radio. She snuck up behind him and dangled the toffee in front of his eyes. He whirled around and smiled broadly. But then he saw her face and his smile dimmed a little. Her heart pricked.

“You want this?” she asked him.

He shook his head.

She felt sad.

But then he said, “I want the mango flavor.”

Her heart jumped with joy! “I’ll get you those later. Right now, will you please help me with covering the bed?” she asked.

He nodded her head vigorously. Then he raised a finger and asked, “Can I jump on the bed after that?”

“Yes, we both will,” she said, laughing.

Beaming with joy, he ran towards the room, and she noticed as she followed him, that his radio was lying in the balcony. She picked it up and placed it on the table – a lesson learnt.

Graciously Yours!

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Pain.

“That’s the thing about pain. It demands to be felt.”
– Augustus Waters, The Fault in Our Stars.

Their only son walked out of their life.

She knew he was feeling suffocated in their house. He could not have pursued what her husband wanted, anymore. He had wanted out for long but not this way probably. If only her husband had been less orthodox and more understanding, she wouldn’t have to see her son walk out the house with a suitcase full of belongings and his camera hung by his shoulder.

Her husband didn’t stop her son. Her son didn’t pay heed to her. She slipped in a wad of cash into his camera bag when she was sure that neither of them would be backing out. That was all she felt she had done for her only son. She tried persuading her husband to allow their son some freedom as he walked down the stairs. She said he was being abandoned. Her husband said he was running away from his responsibilities.

That was it. That was the last they had spoken of bringing back their son.

Three months later.

Like everyday for the past three months, she woke up to her son’s picture on her bedside table. Like everyday, she felt a knife slicing through her heart when she made breakfast for only two. Like everyday, she and her husband spoke of general things before he left for office. Like everyday, she cried a little after her husband left.

Like everyday, her husband touched his son’s picture before leaving for office. And like everyday, she wondered if they really were tears glistening in her husband’s eyes.

“You of all people know it is possible to live with pain.”

– Mrs. Lancaster, The Fault in Our Stars.

 

Graciously Yours!