The Choice

The cars are zooming by outside, I hear them. People are moving around, I hear them too. But more than these loud sounds,there is another sound far more louder than all these sounds put together. It is the sound of my heart thudding in my chest. NO! I've seen no ghost. Neither have I just come in from some heavy physical work. I'm just sitting in my room. Oh! yes! I can even hear the soft snores of my son sleeping beside me.

Why is my heart beating in this manner then?

Well, my heart knows that just as I'm sitting here, trying to gather the beats of my heart, my daughter must be in front of hundreds of her friends in the Assembly ground. She might be holding out a new silk Rachu and talking about it. Today it is her turn for the "Show and tell" during the morning Assembly time. In her school, unlike the other schools which have morning speeches, they have this 'show and tell' where the children bring an object to school and tell their friends about it.

I know had I not resigned, I would be another spectator, listening to her with tears streaming down my eyes. This has little to do with a mother's nervousness over her daughter's speech turn. I'm confident my daughter would give in her best!

What is making me feel that dripping feeling in my tummy is what she must be telling about that Rachu.

2012, a month before my ama left us, she called my daughter near her bedside. She was very weak and her hair had started falling out in clumps after the first round of chemo therapy. Her bony hands sliding into her black duffel bag, she fished out the silk Rachu. Handing it to my daughter, holding it firmly between their palms, which remained like that till she finished talking, my ama said," This is your Abhi's gift to you, Angie."

My Angie had just turned six a month ago but she always has been too mature for her age. She thanked her Abhi and came running to me. The first thing she had to ask me was,"Mama, is Abhi gonna die?"

I had tears in my eyes. I nodded first, trying to find words from the lump that had suddenly blocked my voicebox. Finally in a weak voice I told her," But I don't want her to."

Angie held me in her small arms which barely made a full round around my huge body and she told me,"Don't worry she won't die."

My ama expired a month later. Angie knew she had been wrong. But she didn't accept defeat. Calmly she told me, "Abhi is in heaven now mama, stop crying!" It was as if my little girl knew that she was gone to the better world than this earthly world of sorrows and griefs.

Yesterday, she came to me and said,"mama, can I have the gift my Abhi gave me." I just looked at her, stunned, why she was making this absurd request.

"I want to take it for my show and tell," she informed me. I stood dumb-founded. Just the other day I had given her the option to either take her IPod or the kindle which she uses every moment of her time at home. My daughter had once again proved her maturity with the choice she has made, leaving me spell-bound.

p.s I can almost hear her," this was a gift from my late abhi......."

I can Write

Don't let the title mislead you! This 'I' has nothing to do with me. This 'I' are the kids I met with, this summer break. READBHUTAN had been kind enough to give me the opportunity to work with children of grade 5-12. Working with them on SUMMER WRITING PROGRAM has brought tremendous shower of blessings in my heart.

I have always believed that there are stories in every heart and the writer who is going to write these stories aren't anywhere far, it is right there dwelling in our heart, right beside our stories. Working with these kids, nudging them to bring out the writers hiding inside them, I truly felt what my heart knew was right. Always!

Reading their stories and seeing it come alive, This particular thought came in my mind and I heard the silent screams from their little hearts saying this:

I can write
Of prince and princesses
In a faraway land
Jostling with life
And eventually living happily ever after.

I can write
Of broken families
And lovelorn lasses.
Of sporty kiddos
And humanly animals.

I can write
Of life’s journey
And the stops in between.
Of living and breathing
And the destination
Of death and beyond.

Yes, I sure can write!

Your first steps Ninda!

Dear Ninda,

Today you seem more than eager to use your little feet to get from one end of the room to the other. It’s been a while since you started standing up tall, trying to prove your stand. But, today of all, you have proved that you can go few more steps than you dared until now.
Let me tell you, you are a careful daredevil. At fifteen months, you are more daring than your sisters were at your age. You don’t shy away from riding your bike, pushing it with your tiny hands, trying to propel it forwards.

Your taking the steps today brings me the joy of seeing you step into the world, taking those baby steps into the journey of life. We laugh and we giggle. That drives you to take more steps. You know that we are enjoying what we are seeing.

However, Seated close by, waiting to hold you if you ever fall I feel a sudden sadness creep in. Here, right now, in this room, I am there, all alert! Waiting to hold you if you ever falter. But then these little steps will grow and then when you venture into the big big world, will you have me by your side, waiting to cushion your fall?

How I wish I could be there, watching your every step and be there right beside you to hold you if you ever fall down. Much as I feel this I dread the feeling that in our lives there will come a day when you’ll find my presence beside you more of a nuisance than a comfort. Oh! How it will shatter my heart!

Your movement forward reminds me that these small steps will eventually become the journey into the world, away from this heart, which loves you more than anybody ever will. I wonder if you will ever hear the beats of love from a wilting heart then.
I wonder if the new note of love should overshadows my withered heart, how shall I ever survive that truth?

I know I am being obnoxious now. Let me cast away these fears of the unknown and the unreached and rejoice in what we have for the moment.

Let me laugh with your laughter trickling down in my heart resonating my love for you my son!

With love,
Mama