In the confines of the ICU, my ailing father laid on his deathbed. He clenched my wrist as tight as he could and whispered to me something that I was unaware of for seven years of my life.
He said, “Son, before I go, I want you to know you’re adopted.” And then... Silence!
I sit in my seat besides the stretcher, still and stunned. My eyes shoot up instantaneously to look at the woman whom I’d called mother all my life. My glance pierces into her eyes. She turns around and weeps alone, without a shoulder to cry on… without 'my' shoulder to cry on!
That night was dark and lonely. I walked to my mother’s room and asked, “Where are my parents? Who are they?”
She looked straight at me and without blinking her eyes she said, “Your parents are dead and so is my husband! It’s just the two of us left to live.”
I walked back to my room expressionless, just like a zombie!
In my bed, I ran over everything over and over again. I lamented, “I’m an orphan. As an orphan, how would my life be?
My home would be the orphanage. My school would be my workplace. The hands that made clay castles would have made clay pots.
Even though it’s difficult for me to come to terms with reality, I should be grateful to my caretakers. For they raised me as their own; in the lap of their luxury I have grown!”
Early next morning, I served bed tea to my mom. Her face lit up instantly and within a fraction of a second, we broke into a tight embrace.
My mother is my family. And this truth is bigger than any truth for me.
Love You Mother...
Hi Fazilat,
ReplyDeleteI really like your writing style' it's simple and elegant and I think you can go very far with the written word (and otherwise).
Please watch out for structural errors. Also why are those few words in capitals? They stand out like sore thumbs, and needn't be so at all.
I like your Mumbai-post. It truly is a circus out there. Perhaps you could capture some of the finer details, if you let yourself go and don't limit yourself!
Good going,
Riya