As promised, here is part two of my story series. If you have not read the first one then it is recommended that you do so, but is not necessary. Highly appreciate criticism in the comments section.
Every thought, every action, every being, everything seemed revolting. The white bed-sheets, the nurses in white dresses, the white paint on the walls. They all seemed repulsive, it seemed to her that that quiet colour and the calm surroundings were teasing her. How could anything ever be gentle or serene. If I could color them I would paint everything black. Yes black with violent red. She wondered if Akrit would have done the same.Thoughts seemed to race past in an intermingled blur. Her paralysed husband, her daughter Sarah, the pain within herself and the damned serenity of the hospital. She wondered why her husband committed suicide. Why there was no suicide note. Was it her fault? There were too many whys and none becauses. It was all too much for her, more than anyone could take. She did not want to suffer more than anyone. She shouted- something between a cry of desperation and a mockery of what was happening. She broke the machines near her, tried to rip apart any bed-sheet she could find and started beating the white walls. It was the only thing she could think of doing. She was one of the foremost and famous intellectuals in the world, and all she could think of beating those white walls. It was her feeble attempt at revenge, from what, she did not know- life maybe. By the time the nurses came, she was lying unconscious on the floor, midst her own mess.
The doctor asked ‘Samantha’?
It was more than three hours since she fell unconscious and twenty more minutes since she lay awake. Though she did not want to open her eyes. She was not prepared. She believed that she could escape it all by delaying everything. The thing is, no one is ever fully prepared. You may lead the game one-nil from the first minute only to see a couple of self-goals in the last. At last she gave up. She could not have outrun life itself, there is only so much that you can run from.
“I am sorry for the way I behaved this morning, doctor. How is Akrit?”
“Samantha. You suffered what is called a ‘Panic Attack’. Akrit, I’m afraid, has not shown signs of any further recovery and we doubt if he will ever be able to. I am sorry Samantha, everything will be fine. Take care”
Everything will be fine. Oh yes, everything will be fine, why shouldn’t it? Try saying that to yourself when your wife becomes a vegetable, you bastard. She had had her share of drama today and was already feeling sorry that she thought about those words. She was tired, she was sick and she wanted to give up. She looked at herself in the mirror. She remembered the way Akrit used to describe them, as only a writer could and she remembered the way she blushed. Streams of tears now flowed across those red cheeks. Oddly it now gave her a portly appearance of a person who has seen more than one should. Her blonde hair was in disarray- spread everywhere like the ruffled feathers of a bird which desperately wanted to break the chains and fly somewhere far off. It was pitiful, the lost face, tattered hair and those blue eyes which lost their radiance amidst the river of tears. She wanted to end it all, death would be better.
“Hello Mommy”Samantha quickly wiped her tears after-all she had to portray a brave face in front of Sarah.
“Hey dear. Did Nanny give you lunch? Did you watch your favorite Tom and Jerry today dear dodie?”
“Mummy I saw you wiping your those tears. You don’t have to cry, they all are saying that Daddy is fine. But I think they are all lying to me and thinking that I am a little kid. Didn’t daddy say that I am the intelligentest girl ever? Mummy don’t cry, it is not good to cry. Daddy is not speaking. I don’t know why and I don’t like it. I want him to speak. But mumma we cannot cry, we must not cry. Daddy never likes it when I cry, he says that only bad and weak people cry. Mummy don’t be bad. Oh and mumma you keep forgetting Tom and Jerry comes only on Fridays and today is tuesday. Anyways I thought that I should meet you, Granny did not let me come but I slipped through the back door. I am sorry mumma for doing that but I thought that I should be with my mumma. Mumma is more important than Nanny and cartoon. Soweee”
She held her ears with her little white fingers to apologise. Samantha looked straight into her daughter’s clear blue eyes, they were identical to hers. While the mother’s seemed to have lost all hope Sarah’s innocent eyes gleamed with mischievous enthusiasm and hope. They were everything that hers were not.
‘It is Ok dodie’ She could not stop crying.
‘Mumma don’t cry. Everything will be OK.’
Dodie smiled her usual dimpled smile.She felt like a warrior fighting a war which she had no hopes of winning. She realised that life is a game where you don’t get any points for quitting.
‘Yes dodie, it will.’ She said in spite of herself.
Sometimes all that one needs to keep going is a smile.
Filed under: English, Literature, Short story, Story