Last month, through common connections, I learned about the untimely and sudden death of one of our friend’s very young daughter. Unable to process the information, I made frantic calls to confirm, and each response came as a dagger. I had seen the child two years back when my co-rider and I were riding from India Gate to Gateway of India. I remembered all the conversations that the revolved around her daughter . I remembered this tiny girl standing in the heat of the sun at Gateway of India with a red rose to welcome her mommy. My boys are grown-up teens now, and I miss their phase as over-enthusiastic kids, so I loved the narration of the euphoria of childhood in our conversations during the ride.
“She is no more.” I couldn’t figure out what to do or how to react. I froze for a while and immediately requested my driver to come over on his off day and drive me to my friend. I was two weeks old in my osteotomy surgery and on total bed rest. Don’t know from where I mustered the courage to walk with the help of my walker and drive to see her.
During the journey, I recalled our conversation about her daughter during our cycle ride. She likes to play with crayons a lot; she celebrates all the festivals with so much joy; she is a happy child, loves dogs, and is a neighbourhood darling; she doesn’t like spicy food and many more. We shopped chaniya choli for her from Udaipur. I am a mother of boys and absolutely loved shopping for those colourful and bright dresses.
I recalled Sid and Abhi when they were eight years old and how my entire routine revolved around them. I had taken a break from work and was a hands-on mother. I loved doing several activities with them, playing, painting and colouring, and cooking; my children were my universe. I can’t think for a moment when I didn’t think about them, and even now, when they’re soon to be adults, my first thought is my children.
With all these thoughts clouding my mind, don’t know when I reached her place. A chill ran down my spine at the very thought of facing her. I wasn’t sure how I should react or even say anything. When I saw her, I just hugged her. My tears dried up seeing hers.
I could sense how the house had become blank, dull and energy-less.
After sitting with her for a while, I hugged her before leaving and started my journey back home.
I couldn’t fathom the loss. I couldn’t imagine what she would be going through. I couldn;t imagine a house without a child. I couldn’t imagine a mother without her kid.
It’s a month since this unfateful incident; I have got back to work, to those endless classes, have been soaked into the calls and exams routine of boys, and attended birthday parties, but something somewhere is missing. There are days when I get up blank, or I get up sweating in between the night, I go cold during my calls, and in between such moments, I pray and pray for all the strength to a mother who has faced an irreparable loss.
Hold your children a little tight today, let them play pranks, dirty your house, and let them be.
To all those reading this, pray a little harder today because a mother needs all the energy and strength to overcome the mammoth of ill-fate and face the hardest fact.
“ A child is the father of a man”, and if we can live by what our children have taught us in so many ways, we’ll surely lead a much better life.
