Emotional fool
The blanket was ruffled. The towel was not dry yet. The fragrance of his scent still lingered in the air. The room was full, yet it was empty. Yadav finally moved away from his son's room and settled into his arm-chair on the verandah, creaking along as it swayed him back and forth, into past and present.
Ram was born to him after 17 long years of marriage. “Those strained days”, Yadav recollected, “days of pity, of worship, of sleeplessness, of yearning, of consoling, of desperation. But it was worth every second, as God’s own child finally beckoned my home! The day he was born...the best day of my life!!” he recalled.
Tender, like coconut-yoke, the little thing bawled, unprovoked. “You’ll bring the roof down crying like this”, Yadav fondly chided the baby, well aware that neither party connected to the statement. It simply was the cutest thing in the world: Pink legs, ineffably small fingers and wide-round disproportionate eyes.
Life was never the same again after his birth. Ram personified life. He was the centrifugal force driving every single move, every single decision. Yadav dedicated all his energies in raising Ram, making available whatever he sought for. It stretched his limitations, altered his lifestyle, changed his priorities, yet, it was inevitable, his love was overwhelming.
"Here...take your coffee", Girija said, bringing Yadav back from wonderland. She wore a sullen look on her face. She had been crying for a long time. Her eyes were red, swollen and damp. Helpless and tired, she was making vain attempts to recuperate, bring back some life into this home, an epicenter of grief. “We’ll see him again next December, won’t we? You don’t realize, but time just flies. Come on now, have some coffee” she said unconvincingly, extending her arm.
Yadav sipped along the coffee as his mind dissolved into reminiscence again. “He was eight then”, he recalled “when Ram left with Girija to her hometown. I dropped them at the station. And when the train started to move, he suddenly jumped to the window, looking at me on the platform. Those mesmerizing eyes, the yearning in them, the love they adorned…still etched in my mind”.
His thoughts chugged along, stopping at various stations of time, some big, some small, but all of them close to his heart. After a long journey, he finally managed to lift himself from the chair and stroll across to the kitchen.
Ram was born to him after 17 long years of marriage. “Those strained days”, Yadav recollected, “days of pity, of worship, of sleeplessness, of yearning, of consoling, of desperation. But it was worth every second, as God’s own child finally beckoned my home! The day he was born...the best day of my life!!” he recalled.
Tender, like coconut-yoke, the little thing bawled, unprovoked. “You’ll bring the roof down crying like this”, Yadav fondly chided the baby, well aware that neither party connected to the statement. It simply was the cutest thing in the world: Pink legs, ineffably small fingers and wide-round disproportionate eyes.
Life was never the same again after his birth. Ram personified life. He was the centrifugal force driving every single move, every single decision. Yadav dedicated all his energies in raising Ram, making available whatever he sought for. It stretched his limitations, altered his lifestyle, changed his priorities, yet, it was inevitable, his love was overwhelming.
"Here...take your coffee", Girija said, bringing Yadav back from wonderland. She wore a sullen look on her face. She had been crying for a long time. Her eyes were red, swollen and damp. Helpless and tired, she was making vain attempts to recuperate, bring back some life into this home, an epicenter of grief. “We’ll see him again next December, won’t we? You don’t realize, but time just flies. Come on now, have some coffee” she said unconvincingly, extending her arm.
Yadav sipped along the coffee as his mind dissolved into reminiscence again. “He was eight then”, he recalled “when Ram left with Girija to her hometown. I dropped them at the station. And when the train started to move, he suddenly jumped to the window, looking at me on the platform. Those mesmerizing eyes, the yearning in them, the love they adorned…still etched in my mind”.
His thoughts chugged along, stopping at various stations of time, some big, some small, but all of them close to his heart. After a long journey, he finally managed to lift himself from the chair and stroll across to the kitchen.
Girija was cutting vegetables. “When will he reach?” asked Yadav. “It will take another 23 hours. He will call once he gets there. Don’t fret”, she mumbled. “It’s already been 2 years since he went to the US. All I get is 20 days with him every year. My life seems to have lost all purpose. I dedicated my entire life to bringing him up, and all I get is 20 days!” Yadav moaned. “It’s his life, he’s a grown up now. He can decide where he wants to live and what he wants do. You better come into terms with these things! He is not your little kid anymore” she admonished Yadav “And he never asked you to dedicate your life to him. It’s your fault…I always told you to be more pragmatic, but you remained an emotional fool”.
“Emotional I am, but fool…maybe not”, he answered meekly and went back to his arm-chair.
“Emotional I am, but fool…maybe not”, he answered meekly and went back to his arm-chair.
posted by krishnan at 4:00 AM
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