Thursday, 18 April 2013

A Gift

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.

MANISHA BHATNAGAR

12 comments:

  1. Very touching story, Madam....
    Almost brought tears into my eyes....
    This is the your first story i have read. Really awesome...Tnks....plz keep informing abt ur next stories.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Abhishek
      Thanks for your appreciation.
      This is my second story on the blog.
      Please go to the archive to read the first one called "I luv you Papa"
      bye
      Manisha

      Delete
  2. Madam..

    Excellent One... Indeed very touching... Nice narration and presentation style... Got so involved that I couldn't even distinguish whether I am reading a Story or reading directly from Mithoo's mother.. Unknowingly I correlated it with O Henry style of ending.. Come up with more Madam...

    All the Best..
    Regards
    Bipin

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you Bipin for the encouraging remarks.
      Hope I'll keep on posting things that you like.
      Manisha

      Delete
  3. Very very touching story... kept my curiosity all the time to know the end of the story...marvellous indeed...

    ReplyDelete
  4. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Thanks Deepa Sriya
    Hope to keep you entertained like this in coming posts also
    Manisha

    ReplyDelete
  6. very touching and imaginative. the family went through trials and tribulations. cleanly artticulated. all the best.

    ReplyDelete
  7. A very well crafted story. An amalgamation of human feelings of love and bereavement has perfectly been embedded. I finished in one go. Thank you very much and congratulations, Manisha mam.

    ReplyDelete
  8. Thank you Anuj for you observations. They are valuable to me.
    Hope to keep you entertained in future through more writings.
    Manisha

    ReplyDelete
  9. I read the poems and the stories yesterday night itself, a very touching poem and the story. But a little bit of pessimistic feeling comes after reading and makes someone think about the strong and more or less a permanent spectrum of life. looking forward for reading more from you. Thanks Deepankar K. Sinha

    ReplyDelete