SURGING MEMORIES

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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