I heard something the other day, that was so apt for my situation. ‘Bhai chale jaye to bal chale jaye. Baap chale jaye to chhat chale jaye aur mayri jab jai to jag chale jaye!’
Sweet, na. I miss you so much but I’m so glad you weren’t around to see this. I don’t think you had the stomach for it…honestly I don’t think I have the stomach for it, either. I’m hanging on to the side of the cliff, by my fingernails, holding on as tight as I can.
Days go by like they do at the hospital, one muddled into another. Forty days later, the father tells anyone who will listen, ‘I can’t take this torture anymore, I don’t feel better, we’re right where we started. Please take me home.’ He woke up right now and the first thing he was worried about was how much is it costing? Somethings don’t change. He’s so frail and withering away…at times better at times the same. Ageing, is too difficult man. My mind keeps going back to the astrological prediction- someone in the family will pass away before the end of January, that was made when you went. I kept thinking of that when we came in this time, hoping somehow we would survive the month to only realize Amma, went later. The mind is a trickster, it constantly looks for loopholes to make situations more tolerable…making connections where there are none.
Speaking of khurafati dimaag, sometimes it saves me, too. The father has always made fun of how, I have a plan A, B and C …thankfully, my backup plan or the back as we used to call in Masjid Moth, has been here for almost a month, now. It was nice not being alone for a change. The father in any case prefers his calm, collected ways to my volatile ones and it was nice to have someone around who is so used to my volatility, he actually finds it amusing! He’s so much better at tackling human beings…you know I’m a fit thrower who won’t believe anyone…who will want to see a report and won’t take anyones word for anything! Nope…just can’t do it…SB won’t let me. He on the other hand, like you, knows how to give people the impression he trusts them completely without really doing so. Tact…I wish it would rub off on me but twenty three years with you couldn’t make me nicer, nothing else is going to.
Speaking of nice, you know when you’re at the hospital, everybody is in the same boat, everyone has a story to tell. I was sitting at Nescafé and got chatting with someone whose mother had recently had a stroke. As we discussed medicines, things digressed to families and brothers and somehow landed on you. ‘ He must have been a really nice person…extremely generous and sweet! I’ve noticed the good ones go early!’ Ain’t that true about you! Cho cute you were! So was our mum. But our father isn’t…so you two make do without him! It ain’t fair that you all always thought, that I could handle everything. Sorry, I can’t! No…not!!!Leave him with me…we got to trouble each other and the world a lot more!