Pink of Health
She looks angelic in pink on her special day, sitting in front of the television, enjoying a cartoon show. I start cooking her favourite cream of mushroom soup. Her face is all smiles when she sees the bowl. As I feed her spoonsful of soup she claps her hands with joy. She’s polished the bowl clean.
“I’m full, Amma. I’m sleepy”.
I dab the corners of her mouth with a baby wipe.
As she’s drifting off to sleep, I whisper, “Happy Mother’s Day, Amma…”
Dementia! Wicked and wild…
Today our roles are reversed – I’m the mother… you are my child…
When Chains Were Unchained
The first drop that fell brought to life the otherwise lifeless earth. It was parched and had gone dry just like her life. It was devoid of love, companionship and literally everything. The fragrant petrichor that lingered reminded her of the future that lay ahead. She soaked in the earthy waft, and stepped out of the jail that she was caged in. The chains of societal norms and gender bias seemed to melt off in the rain or wait, was it her willpower? The answer, only she knew. She stepped out into the world of freedom on that rainy day.
It’s been a day that her soulmate passed away, and people around were already judging her.
“Is she even human?”
“How could she be so normal?”
There was a storm raging inside her that won’t let her breathe. Every part of her being ached like hell. She went numb from head to toe, almost dead.
How fast someone’s status could change! She wondered. And then, the very first drop of tear fell on her henna-clad hands, reminding her that she was a bride a day ago, and now a widow – shortest distance ever travelled between dreams blooming and dreams withering.