A Promise

Holding her frail hand I mutter silent prayers. No particular image of God comes in my mind. I just see her face and the pain written on it. I stroke her hands lightly wanting to put my hands across her temple and kiss it lightly. But I want her to sleep, so I just keep my hands on her and say silent prayers.

I stare at her little frame of body and try to remember the nine months of my stay in that warm womb inside her. I try to visualize a tiny dot that became me in that womb, I fail miserable. But I know I must have spend my time inside her kicking her. She throws her feet in a slight kicking motion in her sleep. Can she actually hear my thoughts I wonder. Maybe!

When I was inside her did I hear her thoughts? Maybe!

Today watching her gives me a different feeling. Just few days ago we were in the hospital ward. I was busy with my word game when I heard the shrill cry of the nurse on duty,"zangmo, you doing my work?" I lifted my head to see my mother extending her hand to pull the tangled IV line of the patient next to her. Although the Nurse meant to rebuke her I heard a soft reproach that sounded like affectionate cooing. I was proud of my mother. Although in pain herself she could think of helping her neighbour.

For five nights, I spent my time ferrying patients with dangling urine and other bags to toilet and for their usual walks. At times holding on to pus filled bags of strangers and holding their hands walking to the toilet, I wondered why don't I cringe with yuck! this is dirty feeling? But looking at my mom, I knew where that helping nature came from.

Its bath time. I am scrubbing her lithe body and I ask her about the first time she gave bath to me." I was scared the first time I put you in the tub," she smiles weakly. I understand what she is trying to explain. First-born is always a difficult task. But giving bath to my mom I felt a sense of fulfillment fleet, the same one that you feel when you give bath to your first born for the first time without fear.

We sit silently yet reading eachother's thoughts. We sit talking to eachother, sharing basic dreams shared by a woman with another woman. We watch TV shows wishing it would make our hearts merry. We eat dishes that has been seasoned with love we feel for eachother. We finally put our heads on the pillow for it's dark outside. I curl beside her and imagine my tiny body curled up in her womb. I uncurl myself, stretch my limbs, hold out my hands and gently place it on her wishing every pain from her body would come to me with my hand touching her.

A warm trickle reminds me I need to make a promise, sincere and genuine...So, with my hands still placed on her hands, I silently divert my attention from my prayers and make a promise,"dear mom, I shall always strive to be like you, truthful and good to all." I allow the tears to mingle with the silent vow so that it seals the honesty with which I make this pledge.