I know it’s been long since I wrote anything. Definitely not writer’s block. The reason why I write here is just to put it out there and for some time I couldn’t, because I don’t handle pain well. Well, to explain better, when something painful happens I go numb. I don’t react or go through the due course of a normal healing process. I simply shut down the inside of me.
October 5th 2018 my
mom passed away. She was just 65. I had recently got a job at a reputed college
in the city, got admission for Ela in one of the best schools here and even had
planned to moved into a new place closer to her school. On the night of 4th
October my mom called as I was packing up stuff and instead of talking to her I
asked Ela to do that, which she did.
I called my mom the next morning as I went to check out the new place. This time
she didn’t answer and I thought may she was still asleep as it was just around
8 am.
I found a small temple nearby. I am not a fan
of temples in the city, unless it is on top of a hill. But that morning I
stepped into the temple and just sat there for some time. Later, I went home
and dozed off as I had taken the day off and as I was pretty tired from the
packing. By noon my mom called and I disconnected the call.
She called again and again, By
the third time I was a little mad and wanted to go back to sleep. She called
again. I knew I couldn’t sleep anymore (little did I know for many years to
come) I answered the call and was confused as I heard a man’s voice on the
other end. It was my cousin’s friend. He says Hi it’s me, his name. I said
okay, a lot confused. He says your mom had passed away. I thought I didn’t hear
him well and asked what…what…over and over again. Then I heard him.
I remember crying a little bit screaming “MOM,
MOM” It was for a few seconds. I calmly packed a bag, booked a cab, went to pick
up Ela from school. When I went to the school Ela was so happy to see me. I
told her we were going to Madurai. I still remember her big smile hearing the
news. That’s when I tell her Vijaya passed away. Her face was frozen. She cried
all the way to home in the cab. Home, Madurai. I did not feel anything. I was
lost somewhere. After four hours we reached home. Saw my sister crying her eyes
out sitting next to my dead mother, who was kept in an ice box. I did not want
to see my mom that way and I didn’t.
I learnt that she had died may
be early in the morning that day, while I was checking out the new house and
was spending quiet time at the temple. My cousin’s friend had seen her lying on
the floor by sometime near noon from the road, through her bed room’s window. He
was suspicious and had come into the house. She had gone long time back. That’s
when he had called me.
A husband, 3 daughters and 3
grand kids, but died alone.
But then, the house was filled
with people, crying and crying. I didn’t like it a bit. I kept myself busy by
going to the coffee shop and getting snacks and tea for the guests, then breakfast,
lunch, dinner, whatever. I even spent a lot of time playing with the kids (of
my many cousins) who had come down from different places. I was so okay. I couldn’t
wait for the stupid rituals to be over.
I felt an unswallowable lump of
a shit load of emotion when I saw my baby screaming my mom’s name with the
never ending flow of tears from her eyes. I kept telling her that it was fine
it was okay and that she was with us.
My mom was still kept in that
fucking box. I think they were waiting for my other sister to come home. Don’t
remember. It was night and I went to my mom’s room, slept in her bed. I was
aware that she had just died there that day, by her bed on the floor. I felt
nothing, just slept there peacefully.
The next day was the worst. ( I
realise it, but honestly,the day after my mom’s death was the worst) The
fucking horrible rituals! God I just wanted the whole thing to be over. The sad
crowd in the house and the stupid strangers who were hired to do the rituals…the
meaningless, bull shit rituals. My mom was carried out of the house, was kept
on the road in front of it. With all the passers by on the road and the also
sad, curious neighbors, the hired men giving instructions to us to carry a
stupid pot with water, to go around my mom three times, to apply oil on her
feet…it was all fucked up. Too many meaningless shit. All the daughters and the
grand kids were even asked to walk to a nearby public pay toilet to take a bath
(there were no bathrooms there!) Yes, that is what you should do. Your mom dies
and you go to a fucking public toilet to take a bath.
May be ages ago it made sense to
take a bath in the river after your loved one was carried away to be cremated.
But to do that even now…idiots. I was an idiot too, to comply with that. I just
wanted it to all be over.
So, after we took a nice, clean
bath in the toilet, we had to walk all the way to home in wet clothes, with people
on the road staring at us. There were all sad of course, to see an entire
family wailing over their unspeakable loss.
I was very relieved. But still
wanted all the relatives to leave. I wanted things to get back to normal again.
One of my sweetest aunts came to
me and said so softly with lots of love and concern…Cry Skyla…let it out. I
said I was fine with a smile on my face.
Ela and I came back home the
next week. I went back to work, sent Ela to school. Everything seemed okay.
I started to feel something
unpleasant. I couldn’t smile anymore, not at my colleagues whom I despised and
not at my students whom I loved. I didn’t even feel like facing them. Anyway had
to work, had to pay the damn bills. I remember once I even sent the entire
class out to complete some group task, and I sat in the empty classroom
thinking about running away. Didn’t know where though.
It all went downhill from there. I lost
interest in teaching, lost interest in going out or facing reality. But still
didn’t feel anything and I couldn’t cry.
Weeks gone and months, I had to
drink to cry and it felt great! It was very nice to cry thinking about her. A
few tears but felt relieved a little.
I was (am) so numb inside for
long now. I did all my work though, did everything I needed to do everyday.
Last week, after two years, I
consciously have stopped blocking thoughts about her. I still avoid seeing her
picture. Can’t do that. I know something’s
wrong with me, but no idea what to do.
At least I could write about it
now. May be there is hope for me.
