Somethings don't have a Title...
I remember my mother in vivid glimpses, not as a whole picture, rather a mosaic, which is to be put together. Its been more than 6 years now, that she's gone and I miss her dearly today.
It's been ages since I cried thinking about her, but for some undisclosable reason, today seems to be a day when my eyes get misty once more.
I seem to have taken her absence as a part of my daily routine now, its not that I have gotten used to it, just that I have decided not to confront it.
Mum was the woman with an iron fist, someone whose character was as sturdy as the will of God himself. When she set out to do something, trust me, it was never ONLY half done, she completed her work to perfection, whether it be running the household or taking care of a spoilt brat (that, would be me :-) ) or being impeccably dressed for a party, Mum was THE woman in a mans world.
As children, we never realize how valuable our parents are.We fight with them, shout and scream at them, call them all sorts of names, demand things from them, not knowing how hard they try to make ends meet, and yet, they put up with us and our incessant rambunctiousness.
Then, all it took, was an army of malignant cells, to take her away from me, for ever. I remember how I would scream till the heavens tore open, if my Mum left my sight for even a second. I would go into a state of acute insanity whenever she had to go to Mumbai for her treatment, whether it be for a day, or week, I would be inconsolable.
And the next thing I remember is staring at her cold,lifeless form when it was brought home from the hospital, It didn't feel like her, all cold and numb, the life gone out of her, not fragrant of her usual reassuring motherly scent, but of hospitals, doctors, drugs and death. I never wanted to let go, I was angry, at God, my family and my life. I dropped weight by the kilos, not because I was not consuming anything, but because I was being consumed by everything.
Some months before my mum became severly ill, she told me that she would rather be my friend than my mother, I was ecstatic because I had always wanted my mum to treat me not only as her child, but also as an independant being. The irony of life, the scheming, snivelly bitch, both of us were unable to give each other a chance at being friends. I wonder what would have happened, if we had. Probably I would have shared my deepest darkest secrets with her, and shared hers. I would have unburdened myself in front of her, and taken reprieve from all this pain and she would too.
But, life had something else instore for me. Still, I stood strong in the face of fates fury, and I almost survived. What I still look for is closure, but I guess you never get complete closure from such emotional turbulences.
I distinctly remember when I was told that the doctors had shifted Mum into the I.C.U. I felt as if someone had poked a red hot poker into my guts. I knew they hadn't taken her there, only because " she would be cared for better" I knew somethinmg was amiss.
I ran through the corridors of the hospital, from the top floor to the groung, askin for directions to the Doctors office, eyes welled up with tears, my heart pacing, my state: hysterical. I ran till I reached the Doctors office. He had patients, I managed to control myself from barging into his cabin. I waited and went in as stoically as possible. I sat down, gave him my introduction, and asked him what optiosn did my mother have. He looked a little taken aback by what I had asked, probably 13 year olds coming and askin him about their parents, his patients,was not something he was used to.
I asked him to be honest in his reply, he took a deep breathe which seemed to encompass an eternity, I really wanted him to list out a few options in front of me, I could'v given away my childhood for him to do that.
Nevertheless, he looked at me straight in the eye, and spoke, in a grim, dispassionate voice,"After exhausting most of the effective treatments, I really doubt there are any options left."
He told me in that one moment that my mother was dying.
I thanked him and left his office. I ran sprinted up the corridors, crying, tearing my hair out in misery, went upto the I.C.U. The foolish gaurd tried to stop me, I pushed him aside ( still wonder how I did that...) Barged into the I.C.U. level and screamed at my family, called them liars and how the Doctor had told me the truth. I ignored all their pleas and went into the I.C.U. to my mothers bed. I was a wreck and she could see it, even though she was semi-conscious and delusional. She looked at me with the affectionate look only a Mother could muster at a time like that and asked me to "Relax." Surprisingly I did, She told me to calm down, I did. She didn't say goodbye, Neither did I, that was the last I heard of her.
All my successive visits to tha hospital were worsened by my father, who would never let go of an opportunity to tell me, that Mum didn't have a chance, she was slipping, she was dying. I hated my father for losing hope so soon, for giving up on my mother, for asking me to give up too, I knew he was right, but at that time, I didn't want the truth, I wanted to hear everyonme talk of her survival, not of her demise. I still hate my father for all those days.
I stopped going to the hospital, my exams had gotten over, mum was in the I.C.U
for more than 2 weeks.
Then one day, During P.T. in school, my Grandfather and sister came to take me, I was happy because I thought they had come to tell me that mom had left the I.C.U. and was ok. I saw my sister crying, I asked her, And she told me, " The doctors say Pinky didi( thats what my cousins called her) is no more"
12th December 2001, at 10:09 A.M. Mrs. Bindu Kiran Kapoor, left us, alone forever, her laughter only a distant song of the stream, her smile, the fading light of a setting sun.
___________________________________________________
Bua has been my mother since that day, she has loved me more than her son, she has done for me what no Bua has done for her nephew, I love her more than anything.
My father has really tried to overcome Mums death, at least he has tried. He shows he's fine, but I know he's not and will never be.
My family has a lot of expectations from me, my mother had them too, I remember her smile while in the I.C.U when I told her that I had scored well in Maths, that meant the world to me.
I love you mom, and am deeply indebted to youfor making me the person I am, I dont know where you are, but I know that you know all my secrets now, even though I might not have told you, I just hope you still love me, because I love you and miss you in every breathe of mine.
It's been ages since I cried thinking about her, but for some undisclosable reason, today seems to be a day when my eyes get misty once more.
I seem to have taken her absence as a part of my daily routine now, its not that I have gotten used to it, just that I have decided not to confront it.
Mum was the woman with an iron fist, someone whose character was as sturdy as the will of God himself. When she set out to do something, trust me, it was never ONLY half done, she completed her work to perfection, whether it be running the household or taking care of a spoilt brat (that, would be me :-) ) or being impeccably dressed for a party, Mum was THE woman in a mans world.
As children, we never realize how valuable our parents are.We fight with them, shout and scream at them, call them all sorts of names, demand things from them, not knowing how hard they try to make ends meet, and yet, they put up with us and our incessant rambunctiousness.
Then, all it took, was an army of malignant cells, to take her away from me, for ever. I remember how I would scream till the heavens tore open, if my Mum left my sight for even a second. I would go into a state of acute insanity whenever she had to go to Mumbai for her treatment, whether it be for a day, or week, I would be inconsolable.
And the next thing I remember is staring at her cold,lifeless form when it was brought home from the hospital, It didn't feel like her, all cold and numb, the life gone out of her, not fragrant of her usual reassuring motherly scent, but of hospitals, doctors, drugs and death. I never wanted to let go, I was angry, at God, my family and my life. I dropped weight by the kilos, not because I was not consuming anything, but because I was being consumed by everything.
Some months before my mum became severly ill, she told me that she would rather be my friend than my mother, I was ecstatic because I had always wanted my mum to treat me not only as her child, but also as an independant being. The irony of life, the scheming, snivelly bitch, both of us were unable to give each other a chance at being friends. I wonder what would have happened, if we had. Probably I would have shared my deepest darkest secrets with her, and shared hers. I would have unburdened myself in front of her, and taken reprieve from all this pain and she would too.
But, life had something else instore for me. Still, I stood strong in the face of fates fury, and I almost survived. What I still look for is closure, but I guess you never get complete closure from such emotional turbulences.
I distinctly remember when I was told that the doctors had shifted Mum into the I.C.U. I felt as if someone had poked a red hot poker into my guts. I knew they hadn't taken her there, only because " she would be cared for better" I knew somethinmg was amiss.
I ran through the corridors of the hospital, from the top floor to the groung, askin for directions to the Doctors office, eyes welled up with tears, my heart pacing, my state: hysterical. I ran till I reached the Doctors office. He had patients, I managed to control myself from barging into his cabin. I waited and went in as stoically as possible. I sat down, gave him my introduction, and asked him what optiosn did my mother have. He looked a little taken aback by what I had asked, probably 13 year olds coming and askin him about their parents, his patients,was not something he was used to.
I asked him to be honest in his reply, he took a deep breathe which seemed to encompass an eternity, I really wanted him to list out a few options in front of me, I could'v given away my childhood for him to do that.
Nevertheless, he looked at me straight in the eye, and spoke, in a grim, dispassionate voice,"After exhausting most of the effective treatments, I really doubt there are any options left."
He told me in that one moment that my mother was dying.
I thanked him and left his office. I ran sprinted up the corridors, crying, tearing my hair out in misery, went upto the I.C.U. The foolish gaurd tried to stop me, I pushed him aside ( still wonder how I did that...) Barged into the I.C.U. level and screamed at my family, called them liars and how the Doctor had told me the truth. I ignored all their pleas and went into the I.C.U. to my mothers bed. I was a wreck and she could see it, even though she was semi-conscious and delusional. She looked at me with the affectionate look only a Mother could muster at a time like that and asked me to "Relax." Surprisingly I did, She told me to calm down, I did. She didn't say goodbye, Neither did I, that was the last I heard of her.
All my successive visits to tha hospital were worsened by my father, who would never let go of an opportunity to tell me, that Mum didn't have a chance, she was slipping, she was dying. I hated my father for losing hope so soon, for giving up on my mother, for asking me to give up too, I knew he was right, but at that time, I didn't want the truth, I wanted to hear everyonme talk of her survival, not of her demise. I still hate my father for all those days.
I stopped going to the hospital, my exams had gotten over, mum was in the I.C.U
for more than 2 weeks.
Then one day, During P.T. in school, my Grandfather and sister came to take me, I was happy because I thought they had come to tell me that mom had left the I.C.U. and was ok. I saw my sister crying, I asked her, And she told me, " The doctors say Pinky didi( thats what my cousins called her) is no more"
12th December 2001, at 10:09 A.M. Mrs. Bindu Kiran Kapoor, left us, alone forever, her laughter only a distant song of the stream, her smile, the fading light of a setting sun.
___________________________________________________
Bua has been my mother since that day, she has loved me more than her son, she has done for me what no Bua has done for her nephew, I love her more than anything.
My father has really tried to overcome Mums death, at least he has tried. He shows he's fine, but I know he's not and will never be.
My family has a lot of expectations from me, my mother had them too, I remember her smile while in the I.C.U when I told her that I had scored well in Maths, that meant the world to me.
I love you mom, and am deeply indebted to youfor making me the person I am, I dont know where you are, but I know that you know all my secrets now, even though I might not have told you, I just hope you still love me, because I love you and miss you in every breathe of mine.
posted by lucifers son | 8:04 AM
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