Always in a dark kitchen, engulfed
in smoke and blowing her chest out to make a fire on a few logs. That is the
early image of her in my mind. I, a kid then, would be behind her back, moving
along with her as she moved from one place to the other. She would often scold
me for lingering in the kitchen and ask me to go out and play. But I would
stick on; rather cling on to her sari. For, she was the only one to listen and
care me.
Once in my childhood, I fell down
from the stairs and due to the swelling on my face I was unable to open my
eyes. I don’t remember how long she had been sitting on a bench near a window
with me on her lap, and softly washing my eyes with cloth dipped in coriander
water, again and again. It was the only treatment she knew and she could afford
then. But what I do remember is the way I shouted gladly and loudly when I opened
my eyes, “Mother, I can see the sky now”.
I used to accompany her to the
nearby stream where she went to wash the clothes. I would swim around in the stream while she
washed. Even when I came on leave after joining the military, I used to go with
her to enjoy swimming in the stream splashing water all around. It was during
one such round she told me, that had it not been for us children, she would
have ended up her life long back. She was beginning to find a listener in me to
shed her past sorrows.
I wanted her to see a little of
the world outside the kitchen. So, I took her once to Cochin, one of the
beautiful places to see nearby. Her
younger sister was staying there with family during those days. Her sister’s
husband worked in the shipyard and took us along and showed all that was there
for us to see in Cochin. On another occasion, I took her to the temple at
Guruvayur. Seldom did she get time to make such little trips. She would always
be busy with household works. That was more important to her, but I would
manage to take her out whenever possible. It might be for a popular film, or an
exhibition show or sometimes to nearby temples. My favourite place in home was
the kitchen. I used to assist her in the kitchen works and also in washing
laundry. Any food cooked by her was delicious to me.
She was the only one to share my
anxiety when, at a time, my future went in dilemma. She was the only one to
value my sentiments when I decided on my life partner. She held back nothing to
herself at any time and allowed all that she had, to be at the disposal of her
children. It was their wishes she always kept in the forefront of her mind.
In her later years, she always
stayed with me. I had often the feeling that it was me among her children that
she preferred to be with. I was rather proud of having her with me. She would
always be there in the veranda to see me off whenever I go out and also to
receive me whenever I came back. She had been happily living with us, until the
nasty disease began to eat her brain cells. The effect of it had been already
detailed in my write-up titled ‘Fading Memory’.
Why did it happen to her? Many
had asked. I had pondered over it several times. But I am still groping in the
dark. I can only make assumptions. The only real answer to it, I feel, is fate.
It is not only her fate, but mine too.
In my earlier write-up, I had stated
that her mind is an ocean of roaring waves. The waves had later subsided. It became
a calm sea. A sea of eternal tranquility.
She remained unconscious for more
than a month before she breathed her last, four days ago. The only feeling I
have is that she is now completely relieved from her illness.
I may not be able to see her any
more, but I know that she is with me and will remain with me for ever.
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