She..the wrinkled child would sit silently with drooping eyelids, yet with a youthful soul deep inside coughing now and then silently marking her presence in this busy house. Every night Papa would never fail to send me to give her medicines, her delicate fingers would tremble on seeing the weapon. She would think for a second like she had a choice, the poor one was going through the rough phase. At times, she would gently touch my hair, a slight stroke around the waves and would whisper, “Sweetheart, you look just like your Mama”.” Grandma, this is not the first time you’re saying it,” I would sigh. No matter how old I turn she still finds me as the replicate of her daughter.
But today, she called me, “Papu, come here” and she spoke in a husky husky voice, and all I could make out was, “I miss you” and just that. The next moment, I felt tears rolling down my cheeks and my voice broke when I said, “Stay strong, Grandma”.
Her breath was quite slow, and she was moving away from me. And within seconds all was turning frenzy, people were rushing in to move her out, little needles pierced through her soft skin while she laid unconscious.
That moment my childhood memories flashed in front of me, where my little cries would melt her heart. She would come running to defend me from my anger stricken mother and would embrace me placing a cute kiss on my forehead. Dramatic it may seem, but only during the separation of bond will you understand the real trauma and the observer has no clue about the scar it had inflicted on the close ones.
Flip..and I shifted back to reality only to find her absence in the lonely chair. It took time for me to grasp the current happenings, though she lived her life in silence for the last few days we were not able to accept the absence of silence in our house.It was then I found a musty paper under her pillow with barely readable, yet messy scribbled writings which read,
“ To my loved ones, thank you for making my old age a memory to cherish in my death bed”
And that very moment I turned into the little four-year old crying, “Grandma, please don’t leave me.”
Author:- Raniyaharini.R
