Skip to main content

Cruel Monday

Everyone who has stayed away from home for a considerable period of time fear 'receiving that dreaded call' as a friend once said. That one call that could paralyse and orphan you without a thought. I got mine on the 11th of September 2006. After a lazy weekend, I had resolved to start the week in earnest but was awakened by the incessant calls on my phone at 7 am. I was asked to rush home immediately. Something had happened to mom that Monday morning. 

Without second thoughts I dashed to catch the earliest flight home. From the airport I dialled all relevant numbers... none were forthcoming. All I was told was that something had happened, I found my ears shutting to the rent of wails in the background. Yet, no one confirmed the news. Perhaps they thought I wouldn't make it through the three-hour long flight and a further three-hour drive to my summer house in Shillong. Finally, while still at the airport waiting for security check-in, I managed to get through to a relative who broke the news... my mom was no more. .. the words didnt dawn on me, after all this day couldn't come so soon in my life.

I was numb for a while, then shaking nervously kept staring at my cell phone for one voice that would say this was not all true, that this was all one bad dream and that someone was playing the most horrible of pranks on me. A three-hour journey seemed like eternity. 

Landing at Guwahati airport, the restlessness was even greater. The unusual quietness of my driver, the pouring rains all the way home -- I thought even nature had a way of communing things sometimes -- and I felt a sudden exhaustion. 

Finally as I approached the hillock up to my house, I saw cars lined up, people swarming the area. I developed an instant loath to such a sight as it confirmed my worst fears. All eyes were on me as I got off the car while I searched for my brother, my pillar of strength, only to find he too had crumbled in the uttermost of pain. Then my eyes went to the white sheet in the courtyard, that very symbol and finality in Hindu custom when you bid goodbye to the dead. I fell on to my mother, hugged her, held her cold face next to mine and asked God if I could have her for just one more day.

Comments

Sabarmati View said…
Hi Indi,

There are times when words don't just remain words... They take you to a world of joy, memories and those cherished moments. Reading your blog brought about a lot of memories. Hope your love affair with words just grows stronger as each day passes in a cyber world
love lots
Deepu

Popular posts from this blog

A Mad Man Or A Boor

What does one do when one encounters a mad dog? Or what does one do when one encounters a man with pre-fixed notions about everything in life, most specifically of women who live alone and give him some importance? The two are equivalent to me and basic intelligence says avoid the paths they tread like plague. But I chose to tackle them head on. I almost got rabbies.

The mad man said [sic] "You sound like a very desperate person. A single and frustrated woman who is looking for anyone to leave a comment on your blog so much so that you wouldn't even spare a spammer." Spammer being, the first comment on the previous post is apparently a spam, an advert for T-shirts. Bummer! I thought it was a handsome Spaniard or Latino, so I had replied "Hi Rodrigo", hoping to take the conversation forward offline. Anyway! All this the mad man found out. I didnt. Sure, I dig comments because I love the spontaneity and intelligence of my friends. And I didn't invite the mad m…

The Churn

11 am: There I was bang on time at work, perhaps, in a long time. The occasion: a meeting called by the top boss and compulsory attendance required. I am, as always, out of the loop. Reason being there is always so much happening in my life that I am always behind everything. That does not mean I fail to deliver! And unlike some people who are truly into perception management (will delve on it later) and are such repository for all 'inside news', office gossip and politics least interest me. I mean, who cares if someone is quitting for some place else or is having an affair with so and so, or is being transferred unless that person happens to be someone I am generally fond of. Maybe then I would have been privy to some of the classified information ahem... So, was I in for shock today?

The meeting was sombre and had a full house attendance. And then our top boss spilled the beans. Three of the men at the helm were either quitting or were assuming other responsibilities and a ne…

Them Versus Us

Taking off from the Shilpa 'Shitty' issue (I love the surname and that comes from my ever so humorous and intellectual friend Latha or Lotty with love and Angel No. 1 to some :)), here are some reflections on being a north easterner in the capital of the world's largest democracy. Also, Lotty, on a serious note, says I should have a NE angle to what I write. She has a point. I have enough material there, enough to give vent to.

I begin with 'oye Chinky'. When I came to Delhi in the mid 1990s to do a professional course, I wasn't sure what the word meant. Maybe I was too busy paying heed to my new found independence and the certain sense of security -- the fact that I could go to the market even at 10 pm without the peering eyes of the army or the CRPF personnel patrolling the streets and stiffling our existence. It wasn't until my course was over and I got myself a break as a sub editor with the country's premier news agency, that I had my first hand exp…