REALISM
BLESSING IN DISGUISE
PRESENT DAY 2003, DELHI
The doorbell derails my train of thoughts. It brings me out of my reverie. I put down my coffee cup and walk to open the door.
"Momma," she calls in her angelic voice. I grab her from maid's hands and held her in my arms, hug her tightly as though I just realized that I am not alone in this world.
Sarima, my two-year-old daughter. I would have died if she had not been there to make me realized that I would have to live for her. Sarima needs me and I cannot leave her, like her father. Thoughts are whirling madly around me but I make myself calmed for my daughter's sake.
'There is nothing as powerful as mother's love, and nothing as healing as a child's soul.'
Sarima stares at me with a bewildered expression and touches my red swollen eyes with her little hands. I kiss her hands; these little hands are my world. She apprehends that her momma has been crying for hours. How could a two years old baby be endowed with an ability to read a mind! She can easily sense what her mother is going through but unable to express. I am unable to hide anything from these 'sea rover blue' eyes which can peep into my soul and never let me forget him. She kisses me as wants to make me assured that she is there for me.... always...
I leave her in her room on the floor and headed towards kitchen to make banana shake for her. She sits there quietly and gets engaged in playing with her doll, her favorite doll gifted by her father. I don't know if she remembers who's given her or it is just her favorite because of the doll's glamorous dress. She is a real darling, not at all fussy like other children of her age. Cooking for my doll is my passion or I can say that this is the world from where I don't want to come out. Surrounded by Sarima for me means living in a secured world, the world that is mine only and nobody dares to snatch this world from me. She sleeps after relishing banana shake, fulfilled and contented. I must say that one of the perks of being child is to get delighted easily and fall asleep quickly, free of worries. The innocent face of my daughter makes me feel, the familiar ache, a pain of being rejected, unloved, being thrown out by the person you gave your heart, a right to insult you and hurt your soul. Sarima falls in sleep and my mind, my thoughts take me to the road chosen by me, the choice I made has made all the difference in my life. I let myself wander in the memory lane.
I get interrupted from my internal debate when Sarima stirs in her sleep. It crossed my mind that she might be hungry. I am so engrossed in my thoughts that I haven't realized the time. 'Twilight drops her curtain down, and pins it with a star.'
I decide to cook vegetable soup and porridge for Sarima who, unlike other children of her age, is fond of eating colorful veggies, just like her father. But why!? Why did my baby inherited her father's manners and style while its me who kept her in my womb for nine months; it's me who nurtures her with my love, blood and flesh. And now, it's me only who is looking after her. Her father even does not know if she is living or….
I quickly sauté some finely chopped veggies in olive oil and prepare soup for my darling. I move to make porridge with her favorite berries, topped with yogurt and strawberry. After finishing cooking, I make one cup of coffee with one garlic toast for myself and come to my favorite place, my balcony, my space.
I live in a society in 2BHK flat, comprised of civilized residents, who are least bothered to sneak peek into other's lives. No one is worried about my marital status here, even though senior ladies still try to intervene and ask my maid about my husband. She has told me several times. But I am not bothered enough to think about this issue as there are still many issues to be resolved...
Since morning the Indian traditional wedding songs are playing in the flat opposite to me. Although there are two roads between the two buildings, the music is audible easily. It seems as though marriage ceremonies are going on in the 3 BHK flat. The Indian wedding ceremonies, undoubtedly, are the most fascinating, huge family gatherings. It's like a fairy tale where the groom mounted a splendid adorned horse, comes to bride's place to marry her where they exchange vows, which are performed along sacred fire. The groom promises the bride that he'll be by her side as her courage and strength forever... forever????? Today, I understand why do we get happy or sad when we see any happy occasion or sad moment…because we relate ourselves to the same. And even sometimes, happy occasions make us sad. Marriage, like every girl, for me was the most wonderful dream come true. But dreams are meant to be shattered.
The wedding bells in 3BHK takes me to the withered and shredded leaves of my life. But fortunately, Sarima saved me (though for a moment) from going back to those dreadful memories which ruined not only my life but my soul also.
'Momma, no cry', her little hands wipe my tears as she's trying to heal my hidden wounds. 'I am not crying, my doll. Let's have dinner darling'. I served her favorite porridge. Her shining and glittering eyes makes me realized that her mother is the best cook in the world (for her). Her smiling face while eating makes me smile. 'When life gives you hundred reasons to cry, your child gives you thousand reasons to smile'.