My grandpa was always a person who wasn't afraid of change. Bored of his mundane life in Nepal, he moved to India in search of thrills. It was in Bhutan where he met my grandma. They fell in love, but their relationship wasn't accepted by society. So, they ran away to Kiphire, Nagaland, and got married.
Since my grandpa hadn't returned to Nepal for a long time, most of the cultural traditions were lost. My mom and dad were neighbors who disliked each other as kids, always fighting whenever they met. But as they grew up, they fell in love and eventually got married.
After my parents got married, they lived a hard but fun life together. My mother became softer, supporting my dad in everything. Soon, she became pregnant with their first child. They were ecstatic, excited about becoming parents. My dad bought clothes in advance for both boys and girls. They were ready.
Things were going well until a few months into the pregnancy when my mom had her first miscarriage. They were devastated, especially my mom. I'm sure she cried hard. My father reassured and comforted her. They tried again, and she was pregnant after a few months. But soon, they faced their second miscarriage. The sorrow was palpable, but they didn't give up hope.
Time and time again, reality struck them hard as my mom continued to have miscarriage after miscarriage. She was checked on multiple occasions, and every time she seemed healthy, but she could never carry a pregnancy to term. By the time she had her sixth miscarriage, she lost hope completely. She cried hard, leaning on my dad, saying she failed to give them a child and couldn't fulfill the dreams they had envisioned. She told my dad to leave her and find someone else who could give him a family.
But my dad stood firm. He comforted her, telling her not to talk about such things. He stayed with her. In hopes of fulfilling their dream of having their own family one day, they went to a spiritual warrior seeking guidance. They found out that something sinister was at play. After they prayed and chased away the evil spirit that was inside her, eating the children away, their first child, my elder sister, was born.
They were so happy. After years of torment, they finally got what they wanted—a family of their own. Naturally, my elder sister was spoiled to the core, followed by me, who was spoiled just as much,
And so both of us were also supposed to not be here if not for that person who prayed for us. Our existence is something akin to a miracle. To be alive, and that's why I wanted my parents to have a normal son. I wished that this life was given to someone who actually wanted life. From the moment I was born, I always got what I wanted, and my parents never really said no to anything I asked for, unless it was bad for me.
They guided me strictly so I wouldn't go down the wrong path, and always gave me the freedom to choose what I needed to do. There were so many families in this world, but what were the odds of me being in a family that was this blessed with happiness? And that's why I wanted someone else to be in my place, because despite my loving parents, the freedom I was given, and everything else being an almost perfect environment, I just couldn't find a genuine reason to live. I didn't want anything nor did I hate anything. Life itself was a very boring concept since I was a kid, and I never really understood the reason for being alive. I didn't want anything nor did I want to do anything.
I could not understand why people were so desperate to live. If any of my parents died at some point, I was so sure that I wouldn't have any more reasons to be alive and would just give up on life entirely. I just kept living because I was still breathing, and because there were people who were important to me. I worked hard to study so I could earn lots of money and give my parents the happiness they deserved, because that was the least I could do for them. Those were the only reasons that made me continue with this cold, boring life.
But was I trying to do that because I loved them? Or was it just an obligation that made me want to do things for them? Even I didn't understand, and because of that very reason, I really wanted them to have a normal child. And so, fast forward to the present, and here my mom is suffering while I am too powerless to do anything.
During those moments, I learned more about my emotions. I learned that I too could shed tears for my mother, and also about the causes for my mother's current condition. They said that my mother was originally supposed to follow the way of the spiritual warriors since her dad was a powerful spiritual warrior, and my mom was supposed to follow in his footsteps. Since my mom got married and settled for a normal life, this was a way of God's punishment.
And there was also this evil witch that has been passed down from generation to generation, from female to female, from my mother's ancestors. So when my elder sister got baptized, the witch was sent back to my mom. Because of a lot of unfinished business left in our household, it's not just one, but just one out of the many that's causing us this trouble now.
So the very God I prayed to was the reason why she was possessed in the first place.
Is this really the right thing—to punish someone for not following the path? What's the use of free will if our destiny is already fixed? What's the use of free will if we are punished for not following the path set for us? In spite of my mom not following the path, she was always a kind person who was good to others. She was soft, caring, and wouldn't hurt anyone. She prayed every morning and evening without fail.
And the very God that she believed in punished her for choosing her way of life. Does God really exist? And even if God does exist, is God really just? Is this really the right thing? I kept thinking to myself, starting to build some hatred towards God.
It's been a few days since the exorcism, and my mom is slowly starting to lose her memories. She doesn't remember me and almost everyone except my dad. It feels sad, but what more can I do? The spiritual warrior came back and told us about her condition. Doing more exorcisms could be difficult for her, so he would have to proceed slowly. He prayed for us, hoping to fix some of the issues. He said he would set prayers for her on certain days so she would become better gradually.
We stayed there for some days before leaving for my aunt's place back in Assam. After reaching my aunt's place, we returned to our usual routine. My dad and I took turns looking after my mom, though my dad did most of the caretaking. There were no signs of my mother's recovery, and things turned from bad to worse when my dad had to leave for Kiphire for a few weeks to attend to his business.
I was left alone with my mother, who didn't even remember me, at my aunt's place. After my dad left for Kiphire, I stayed with my mother most of the time, except when we were sleeping since she slept with my aunt. The day after my mother realized my dad was gone, she stopped eating and drinking completely. She kept shouting my dad's name, telling him to come back, and refused to have anything until he returned.
This went on for a week. My mom didn't eat or drink anything. Even when we tried to force-feed her, she threw everything away. Her lips were dried out because she hadn't had anything for so long, yet she still refused to eat or drink. She screamed all day, from morning till nightfall. It was surprising where she got all that energy. The spiritual warrior told us not to treat my mother well because the one inside her wasn't my mom but a different entity. He said that being kind to her would make it harder to get rid of the entity. But doing something like that was not easy for me.
It would have been easier if I could just hate my mother, but she wouldn't fight me. Looking at her made me feel weak. I tried to hate her in order to control myself. I kept telling Tsula that I hated my mom and said some mean things about her, but how much longer could I continue to lie to her and myself? I couldn't stand seeing my mother this way. It made me feel helpless and sad. The way she looked at me, those eyes—it just made me go crazy, knowing I was unable to do anything.
Finally, after a week and a half, my dad came back as soon as he could. Only after my mom saw him did she start eating and drinking again. She would eat with her left hand and kept saying she would only obey her husband. I felt so much at ease with my dad back, knowing he could handle things when I felt helpless.
As days went on, it became a daily routine. We had stayed at my aunt's place for almost three months. My 12th-grade results were declared, and I got around 77%. There wasn't anyone to celebrate with—my mom didn't recognize me, and my dad was preoccupied with her care. At this point, I couldn't care less about my results; I just wanted my mom to get better. I heard that Tsula scored high marks too but was a bit disappointed for not scoring more. I reassured her, saying it's good and she scored more than me, but she remained gloomy about it.
A few days passed, and it was time for me to select a college. My aunt's cousin suggested I study in Shillong if I wanted to pursue computers. Taking his advice, I decided to do my admission there. It was only a three-day trip, and I would come back after arranging my hostel. I didn't want to leave while my mom was still in that state, but my dad assured me it was fine and I should go. On the day I was about to leave with my cousin Jiv, my dad came to drop me off with my mom. I tried talking to her, but she still didn't recognize me or care. I said my farewells and left for Shillong.
The next day, I reached Shillong. It looked like a really good city, different from where I was from. After getting off the bus, we went to the hostel where I was going to stay. It had a total of ten vacancies, and I was going to stay in a double room. After washing up, we went out so my cousin Jiv could show me around. We visited different places that day as I tried to familiarize myself with the area. The next day, we went for my college admission. I was already selected, so it went quickly, and we returned to the hostel. In the evening, we attended a dinner party organized by my cousin's friend. It was a good experience, and I got to interact with some nice people.
But whenever I was left alone, the negative thoughts crept back in. I kept wondering about my mom and if she was doing okay. It made me sad whenever I thought about it. On the third day, we left for Assam again since everything was done. All I had to do was wait for my college to start and return to Shillong. When I got back to Assam, I found my mom's condition was still the same. It was a sad reality I had to accept.
Weeks went by as we continued to care for my mom. We would often go on walks in the evening and take her to the lake during the day to get some fresh air. But one particular night, an incident occurred. My mom refused to eat, and when my aunt tried to persuade her, she suddenly attacked. Her strength was frightening, easily overpowering a grown man. She tried to bite and tear at my aunt's thighs. In response, my dad, consumed by anger and desperation, struck her with a rod. The blows were harsh, leaving marks on my mom's back. Despite the severity, she showed no reaction.
The next morning, the marks were gone, but by evening, they reappeared, indicating that a different entity controlled her during the nights. Despite the clear evidence of the spirit's influence, it was incredibly difficult for me to hold onto feelings of hatred toward my mother. I was torn between the need to protect her and the overwhelming sense of helplessness. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. We stayed in Assam for her recovery, with the spiritual warrior continuing his prayers. He eventually told us that while my mom might not remember much, she was no longer throwing tantrums, and her condition had improved.
During this time, Tsula and I continued our conversations. I tried to appear happy, though I was far from it. Tsula regularly checked in on me, genuinely concerned for my mom. Her support was invaluable, helping me cope with the turmoil surrounding me. Her messages were a constant reminder that I wasn't alone, even in the darkest moments.
As my college start approached, I felt a pang of sadness leaving my mom in her condition, but I had to move forward. I packed my things and went to see my mom. On my last day, I didn't want to pretend to hate her. I simply wanted to be with her. I asked, "Mom, are you going to be alright?" She couldn't respond, but I saw her, gave her a gentle smile, and embraced her warmly before going to bed.
The next morning, it was time to leave. My dad and mom, along with my aunt's family, came to see me off. I took a seat and looked out the window. My dad advised me to be careful, and although my mom couldn't remember me, she understood I was leaving and told me to take care. I smiled and said my goodbyes. As the car pulled away, I kept my gaze fixed on them until they were out of sight.
Leaving my mom behind was difficult, but I tried to find solace in the faith I had in my dad. I trusted him to care for my mom and hoped for her recovery. As I reached for my phone to listen to music, I saw Tsula's message wishing me a safe journey. I smiled and revisited our past conversations.
I remembered the first conversation we had. She was the reason I got my laugh back, the reason I fell asleep with a smile on my face, the reason my life didn't seem so boring.
I realized that if I had been the high school version of myself, I might have given up on my mother and succumbed to resentment. But Tsula's influence had changed me. Her stories about her own struggles taught me to value what I have. Her kindness made me more empathetic, and her unwavering support helped me rediscover hope and meaning.
Her words had a profound effect on me, breaking through my numbness and filling my life with warmth. Tsula's presence had shown me the importance of hope, the value of kindness, and the strength in emotions. making me realize that being with someone is far better than being alone.
Even though we hadn't seen each other for two years, I didn't feel distant. I felt closer to her than ever. Tsula had become a part of my life in a way that made everything feel more bearable. Her kindness and understanding had made me rethink my own feelings and actions. As I headed towards the new chapter of my life, I felt a renewed sense of purpose and hope, knowing that she would be there, no matter the distance. I wanted to continue being with her now and forever, cherishing the connection we had built and looking forward to the future with a heart full of gratitude and love.