Dear friends
Thank you so much for the vast response, appreciation, love and affection that you showered on me. I received many messages of your appreciation in my e-mail for which I am truly grateful and am deeply touched. After two short poems I am now posting a story and am looking forward to your response.
A GIFT
Hearing the door bell as I opened the door
and found an attendant from the hospital where Mithoo had been admitted standing
in front of me. He handed me a heavy box calling it a locker and asked that it
may be emptied and returned the next day to the hospital. While completing the formalities at the
hospital we did not remember anything about the locker. Patients were given lockers
for keeping their valuables which would remain in the custody of the hospital
and could be opened only by a secret number chosen by her or the kin. The hospital staff could not open it.
The uniformed attendant refreshed the memories
of our lost war. For the last year we were fighting a war against acute leukemia,
a deadly monster, which had crept silently into our lives and snatched Mithoo
away from us. It all started with Mithoo having frequent fevers, rapidly losing
weight and becoming weak day by day.
Many times teachers used to send her back from the school as she was not
able to cope with the pressures of studies.
A series of blood tests followed by a test of her bone marrow confirmed
the doubts of the doctors. Nobody
including the god could give me an answer that why this happened to my only
child, the one who is our lifeline, the one around whom our whole world
revolves.
The war included many battles on various
fronts. We had immediately started the treatment after it was diagonised but
somehow it was overtaking us and instead of going into remission it would raise
its head again and again and was spreading too fast. We had tried to give her
the best medical treatment and services even though we could not afford it. Financially
we had become very weak. I had to leave my job to attend to Mithoo’s daily
needs and medical condition. Each and every rupee was somehow drained by the
treatment, medication, and other expenses.
Over and above the emotional trauma that we were undergoing was gnawing
into our lives, the frustration as the disease spread and progressed, drained
us of all hopes and pumped in fear and a general disbelief with the life. The pain from chemotherapy and the paleness
on Mithoo’s face used to cut through my heart like thousand of knives and I was
reduced to a mute helpless spectator of her sufferings. It was a challenge
everyday to keep ourselves calm even in face of all the despair and keep
fighting with the imminent loss of awaiting us. Though doctors had declared a
long time back that Mithoo will not be with us, the desolation kept on
increasing with the passing of each day.
A glaring void that would be created by Mithoo’s going away in our
future lives haunted us day and night.
To keep away panic and to fight this trepidation both of us used to
drown ourselves with daily chores and pretended to be cheerful all the time. However
the activity of staff and visitors and the need to appear positive for Mitthoo’s
sake kept us going and neither of us dared to speak anything negative.
Both
of us were also trying to spend every moment with her but of course we needed
to be away for work, he to earn money and I to tend to household needs mainly
cooking, washing and cleaning. In the
last few months Mitthoo’s condition had been deteriorating very fast.
For
those months our sole purpose had been to keep her happy. Almost all our relatives had visited us to
see and meet Mithoo. Visits from her
school friends in the evenings had become a regular feature. Invariably before dinner at dusk every
evening she would hold my hand and would not allow me to move anywhere unless her
father came to her to the hospital after returning from work to talk to
her. He was generally coming quite late
because he was doing an extra shift of taking tuitions every day to earn more
money.
Only a few days before her thirteenth birthday
on 24th of January in spite of my efforts to dissuade her Mithoo brought
me into agreeing to get her a necklace as a gift. I felt that she had inkling that this was her
last birthday and because of this notion I could not say a No to the want in
her eyes.
She was not aware of the poor pecuniary condition
that we were in. The bills of the
hospital, medicines, groceries and the cost of daily transportation could not
be met from her father’s meager salary.
Besides I could not go to work leaving her hospitalized. The Provident Fund
was depleted; in fact we were deeply in debt and had exhausted all sources of
money. We had already borrowed money
from most of my friends and relatives.
Those days I was daily walking around two or more
kilometers daily to reach the hospital and then again to come back. Next day while
returning from the hospital I took a detour through a nearby market. While walking browsing through various stores
which had artificial jewellery items displayed I saw a very appealing necklace
quite close to Mithoo’s imagination priced at rupees 750. I knew that even an ordinary looking necklace
would cost a minimum of rupees 400 and then this was such a beauty. My two
or three month’s savings would easily allow me to buy it but I didn’t have so much
time. It was a dilemma and wisely I
decided not to purchase it because I knew about the payments that were due the
next few days.
A lot
of contemplation gave me an idea. So on the eve of Mithoo’s birthday I collected
and cleaned the last lot of old newspapers in the house that were scarce since a
long time ago I had asked the delivery boy to stop giving them. We had stopped
taking them to economize. I opened
Mithoo’s Almirah and searched for materials I could use in my project. I could
find most of the things and some red and blue water color left over from
Mithoo’s school days. Using my Origami
skills I came up with a delicately cut and beautifully colored necklace. I
soaked some apple seeds in yellow and red colour. I glued sequins spacing them
in floral and star shapes and then I fixed some yellow and green coloured apple
seeds in place of gems as a finishing touch. I also made strings of blue
colored wool glued with sequins and red and blue stone pearls. I felt satisfied with the ethnic look that
the delicate necklace had.
On Mithoo’s birthday all her friends had
brought her gifts. Even her maternal and paternal uncle had brought her dresses
in pink and white colors that she loved. I was really grateful that she was
happy with the video game which she could play even while lying in the bed and
other girlish accessories. To my relief she seemed to have forgotten all about
the paper necklace I gave her in the morning among these attractive gifts. She seemed to be quite excited to get it but
I felt a grudge in my heart as I handed it to her. I had quickly promised her that I would be replacing
it soon with a real one.
Last month her pain increased and her body further
deteriorated refusing to respond to medication and the doctors told us to pray for
her. I had started spending maximum time with her and would leave her side only
occasionally. My helplessness against
our fate had completely marooned my spirits in a hideous grief.
After return from funeral five days ago home
was reduced to a place of bricks people call a house lacking the joyous laughter
and her pranks. A deep sadness loomed in
the air. A cold feeling of ultimate defeat and despair crept up inside me. I
suddenly had nothing to do. All the relatives and friends had already left us
after trying their best to console us.
On
Mithoo’s insistence we had already decided that we would give away all Mithoo’s
possessions to needy people. Now I
doubted that there would be anything inside the box because Mithoo never had
any valuables with her in the hospital and had given away all of her stuff by
her own hands to smaller children.
It took me a lot of time to summon up the
courage to open the box fearing what memories it may unfold. And there it was staring in my face the red
and blue necklace kept away safely in the locker as the owner was afraid that
she may lose it! Her valuable
possession!! Beside it was a slip on which was scribbled in the very familiar
writing “I love…..” The rest of the words were blurred in front of my eyes
because of the tears rolling down from them over on to the necklace which made
the blue color fluid.
