Letting go
“Don’t die ma, please don’t die on me, please…’
Ma’s eyes opened slightly for the last time, to let out some secrets for those who could understand the language of eyes, and then they closed. Forever.
Rakesh’s first reaction was not of tearing pain, it was,
“What will I say to Trisha?”
Then he broke down.
Grandpa bent down and put a hand on his son’s shoulder. Then the two men held each other, something they hadn’t done for many, many years… Grief binds in a strange way.
“Swati, beta, you will have to go to Trisha’s school. Don’t tell her anything till her stage performance is over… or she won’t be able to sing. I think you too must go Rakesh. It’s not a long event, I will take care of the hospital formalities.”
Grandpa had steadied his voice and that stoic calm that was characteristic of him came back even amidst the storm of death. Swati always secretly admired him for this, a quality she wished Rakesh had inherited from his father, instead of becoming aggressive with people and fate.
Rakesh turned with a jerk to her mother’s body, that reposed in death.
“Get up Ma, get up!” he jerked back and shook his mother’s arm.
“It’s not fair, it’s not fair,” Rakesh was still sobbing “How can she die today – on her birthday, when Trisha is singing a tribute to her in school. She’s waiting…”
The doctor who stood at the back watching this came forward now,
“I’m really Sorry Mr. Sheth for the loss, but your mother died painlessly, please try to take some comfort in this.”
Swati put her hands on his shoulders that were heavy with grief and quietly led him out.
They had to break the news to their daughter in way that her heart wouldn’t break. It was a very delicate heart, one that would not accept change or grief easily, like her father’s. How will they tell Trisha?
“Trisha, your song is up next. You are ready, aren’t you sweetheart?”
Trisha loved her teacher, especially when she called her ‘sweetheart’, it made her feel warm all over, like after grandma’s hugs.
“Ma’am can you see my grandma, she promised she’ll come, but she went to the doctor, and..”
“Okay, you be ready now, I’m sure she’ll be there with your parents in the audience.”
“No, I want to see them first.” Trisha’s voice hardened.
Her teacher knew what that meant. She secretly prayed that Trisha would not get into her fit of stubbornness just when she was to sing a solo song in front of all the guests and parents.
“Look Trisha, I can’t make you see from here because we are back stage. But when you go on stage I’m sure you’ll be able to spot them. Just think about the song, take a deep breath and you’ll sing beautifully.”
Her teacher was suddenly reminded of the time when Trisha didn’t eat or drink anything for the whole day. When she’d asked her why she wasn’t having her lunch that her mother had packed, she was surprised by the response,
“My mother promised to give me sandwiches last night, but it’s rice.”
“But you like rice don’t you Trisha?”
Trisha didn’t say a word and she decided to cajole her a little more.
“Come on now, have your lunch.”
She opened the lunch box for her. She didn’t realize what happened after that till it was over and she had a few rice grains on her specs and the rest all over the class-room. She knew after that she would have to be very, very careful with this 7 year old. She couldn’t take a broken ‘promise’.
Trisha walked onto the stage in front the whole hall that was full of everyone’s mummy and daddy and grandfathers and grandmothers. Where were hers in this big hall over flowing with so many people?
The music started, her teacher in the wings anxiously encouraged her to start singing.
She did, even as her eyes searched for her family…
She went into an alaap just the way her grandmother had taught her. But where was grandmother… The audience became very quiet, they realised that this child was exquisitely talented.
Ham chaahto ke gulam nahi
Ham dard se aage jate hain
Andheron se ghabrate nahi
Hamen chirag jalane aate hain
Ham hawa ka thanda jhoka hai
Ruki saanson ko chalate hain
Hum jal ki chalti dhaara hai
Sookhi zameen ko hara banate hain
Khate meethe sab sawaal hamare
hamari gol-mol koi baat nahi
Rang- birange hain khel hamare,
Hai seedhi-sachhi baat yahee.
Andheron ki kaali chadar par
Tim-timate Taron ko chipkate hain
Pedon ko rangeen pankh de kar
Zamin ko aasman par le jate hain
After the second stanza she spotted her mummy and daddy. He wasn’t wearing his blue shirt, the one she’d told him to… where was daadi? She wasn’t there, nor was grandpa!
The audience could sense something was wrong. The child’s concentration had wavered and stopped mid-stanza. Rakesh without realizing it held Swati’s hand. For once he wished his daughter would behave like her grandfather instead of… Trisha stopped singing. There was a dead silence in the hall. Those who sat in front rows could see the expression the face of this talented child changed. In fact, it froze, as if an iron cast had come over it. Trisha froze.
Her teacher knew what this meant, she knew it was useless to urge or force her to do anything at this point. Trisha was not like other children in many ways. She went to the stage and very gently led Trisha away. The incomplete song and the audience’s wonder hung in the air like Damocele’s sword. She will be called to the Principal’s office afterwards, she knew that.
Her parents came back-stage to take her home.
When Trisha returned after a week to school, her friends found her changed. They tried to make her feel ‘good’ and tried to play with her, just as Miss Sheela had asked them to, but Trisha wasn’t interested in playing. In fact she wasn’t interested in anything anymore. She didn’t even stand near the window and sing songs like she used to.
Her best friend told everyone,
“It’s because she misses her grandmother, who has now become a star.”
“No silly, her grandmother has gone to God.”
“That’s how you become a star!”
Even though everyone tried to make Trisha laugh and play, she didn’t do anything. Then the children gave up trying.
“Miss Sheela, Trisha has become like the statue in the hall,” a kid remarked.
Her teacher was worried. After a fortnight she called the parents.
“It’s not just a question of loss,” Swati explained to Miss Sheela, but before she could say anything more, Rakesh’s urgent voice took over,
“Look, she had prepared so hard and that song was taught by mother. So, when the Annual Day fell on my mother’s birthday, Trisha told her that she will give it her best and that would be her birthday gift for her. She was really excited and even selected what clothes all of us would wear. She made my mother promise that she will be there on the Annual day no matter what. That’s how it would have been had she not had a stroke the night before…”
“I understand, it is difficult for anyone to bear this.”
Miss Sheela could see that Rakesh had drifted,
“It’s so unfair…” he muttered to himself. She noticed that both his fists were clenched.
Swati and Sheela looked at each other.
Rakesh came home earlier than usual. He was in time to have dinner with everyone else, instead of having it in his study with his lap-top.
“I’m not hungry,” he told Swati dryly, “you people eat.”
He watched his little daughter having her dinner, it was as if she’d lost her taste buds. A few months earlier she would have demanded ice-cream and would have created fuss over the soup. Not anymore.
He ripped off his tie and threw himself on the bed. He was tired in every way. He was sick of office politics, he couldn’t reach the targets his bosses set and his subordinates couldn’t meet theirs. He’d lost his mother and the spirit of life had been sucked away from his daughter. He still had his father and his wife, but where would she go anyway? It was his daughter who wrenched his heart. If only, all that hadn’t happened the way it did… God wasn’t fair, if there is a God that is, he could never make up his mind …
“What’s the matter Rakesh why are you so tired?” his wife asked him after dinner.
“Nothing, just work,”
He actually wanted to say, that it was life and its unfairness. It wasn’t fair that after working so hard that people didn’t recognize him enough and that had to struggle to keep office politics under check, too many rats there. He had either been manipulating or pressurizing people almost all his life. Even at home he had to put pressure on his wife to leave work when their daughter was born. It was selfish of her to want to work when they had a baby to take care. Thank goodness his mother made her see sense.
“Tell me, your shoulders are stiff and heavy,” she put her hands on his shoulders to ease the tension, it always reflected in his taut posture before showing on his face.
“It’s nothing,” even as he said it, his head leaned back onto the softness of her breasts, and he let go… When he opened his eyes there were tears in them.
In the morning, when they were having their leisurely Sunday breakfast, Trisha surprised all of them with a question,
“Mummy why don’t you work anywhere like my teacher and the aunty next door?”
They all looked at each other Rakesh at Swati, Swati at Rakesh and then both at Grandpa. No one was prepared for this. They were relieved and puzzled at the same time…
“Umm... I can sweetheart, but it’s been a long time,” Swati fumbled.
“You see Trisha, before you were born Mummy was a designer, then God designed that you come and then she started to take care of you…”
“And you are worth much more than any job…” Swati quickly added, not being able to figure out what was going on in her little daughter’s mind.
Trisha was quiet, lost in thought. Then after a long, pensive pause…
“In my school, Ganesh says, God doesn’t do anything for anyone and people don’t become stars when they die…”
They were all benumbed, not being able to make the connection, but took a deep breath, at least she’d started asking questions again.
Later, Swati wondered why Trisha had asked what she did. Had she and Rakesh ever argued in front of Trisha over her wanting to work again? But she couldn’t remember any such time, they were both careful about not arguing in front of their child.
“Swati, I want to tell you something,” Rakesh’s voice was so soft that she was almost afraid.
“The day before Ma had that final stroke, she’d talked to me about you. She’d said that we’d been too rigid about your not working and that after Trisha started going to school, I should have encouraged you. She’d felt guilty I think… or I don’t know, may be something else, after all she couldn’t pursue singing after she’d got married. I meant to talk to you about it but then everything happened so suddenly… I think Trisha was there in the room when we were talking. I’m… I should have discussed this with you.”
“It’s okay Rakesh, I’m fine really. I never even felt the inclination to work… I’ve always felt fulfilled.”
Rakesh drew his breath in fast, short gasps – why did he never feel fulfilled? Even after success, even after money. How could she let go so easily? He took a deep breath and then asked her,
“Swati are you telling me you didn’t mind not being able to work, in a way we imposed upon you, isn’t that like giving up your identity… it’s not really fair?”
“Identity isn’t dependent on other people, otherwise it wouldn’t be your real identity. I don’t see why Ma should have felt guilty, I’ve loved looking after Trisha.”
Rakesh didn’t go to office that day. In the afternoon he went to pick up Trisha from her school. He met Sheela, her class teacher at the gate.
“Hello Mr. Awasthi, I’m surprised to see you here today.”
“So, am I,” Rakesh laughed.
“It’s strange that I should run into you, but perhaps I could mention it, Trisha asked a question today after a very long time, she asked me if everything had to be fair?”
“Oh… and how did you answer that?”
“I was taken aback, but I did tell her that we should try to be as fair as we could and not feel too bad when things did seem too fair… I suppose some where we have to let go,” Sheela looked at his face carefully.
“I don’t really know, but I hope that helps Mr. Awasthi.”
Rakesh didn’t respond to that, he was lost again. She politely took her leave, and he went to take Trisha.
A chubby boy waved to his daughter, “Bye Trisha, and don’t forget.”
“Bye Ganesh,” she said, so quietly that no one heard her.
“What shouldn’t you forget Trisha? What was your friend talking about?” Rakesh got curious as he fastened Trisha seat belt.
Trisha was quiet at first, then she told him,
“That people don’t become stars when they die, stars are just fire.”
Rakesh drew a deep long breath and sighed, he felt the urge to smoke, to take a long, long puff.
At the dinner table Rakesh told Swati and his father who had just returned from his pilgrimage about the conversation at school. But Trisha didn’t join them for dinner, she wasn’t in her room. Rakesh got a little concerned, when his father gestured him to be quiet. They could hear a voice in the balcony.
There under the stars, Trisha was singing the song that she’d left unsung on stage.
They didn’t know that her little friend had told Trisha,
“That people don’t become stars when they die, stars are just fire. But they do listen even after they die especially at night if they love you…”
That day a song drifted from the heart of child and melted into the light of the stars.
- Harvinder Kaur
(Published in Life Positive magazine)
“Don’t die ma, please don’t die on me, please…’
Ma’s eyes opened slightly for the last time, to let out some secrets for those who could understand the language of eyes, and then they closed. Forever.
Rakesh’s first reaction was not of tearing pain, it was,
“What will I say to Trisha?”
Then he broke down.
Grandpa bent down and put a hand on his son’s shoulder. Then the two men held each other, something they hadn’t done for many, many years… Grief binds in a strange way.
“Swati, beta, you will have to go to Trisha’s school. Don’t tell her anything till her stage performance is over… or she won’t be able to sing. I think you too must go Rakesh. It’s not a long event, I will take care of the hospital formalities.”
Grandpa had steadied his voice and that stoic calm that was characteristic of him came back even amidst the storm of death. Swati always secretly admired him for this, a quality she wished Rakesh had inherited from his father, instead of becoming aggressive with people and fate.
Rakesh turned with a jerk to her mother’s body, that reposed in death.
“Get up Ma, get up!” he jerked back and shook his mother’s arm.
“It’s not fair, it’s not fair,” Rakesh was still sobbing “How can she die today – on her birthday, when Trisha is singing a tribute to her in school. She’s waiting…”
The doctor who stood at the back watching this came forward now,
“I’m really Sorry Mr. Sheth for the loss, but your mother died painlessly, please try to take some comfort in this.”
Swati put her hands on his shoulders that were heavy with grief and quietly led him out.
They had to break the news to their daughter in way that her heart wouldn’t break. It was a very delicate heart, one that would not accept change or grief easily, like her father’s. How will they tell Trisha?
“Trisha, your song is up next. You are ready, aren’t you sweetheart?”
Trisha loved her teacher, especially when she called her ‘sweetheart’, it made her feel warm all over, like after grandma’s hugs.
“Ma’am can you see my grandma, she promised she’ll come, but she went to the doctor, and..”
“Okay, you be ready now, I’m sure she’ll be there with your parents in the audience.”
“No, I want to see them first.” Trisha’s voice hardened.
Her teacher knew what that meant. She secretly prayed that Trisha would not get into her fit of stubbornness just when she was to sing a solo song in front of all the guests and parents.
“Look Trisha, I can’t make you see from here because we are back stage. But when you go on stage I’m sure you’ll be able to spot them. Just think about the song, take a deep breath and you’ll sing beautifully.”
Her teacher was suddenly reminded of the time when Trisha didn’t eat or drink anything for the whole day. When she’d asked her why she wasn’t having her lunch that her mother had packed, she was surprised by the response,
“My mother promised to give me sandwiches last night, but it’s rice.”
“But you like rice don’t you Trisha?”
Trisha didn’t say a word and she decided to cajole her a little more.
“Come on now, have your lunch.”
She opened the lunch box for her. She didn’t realize what happened after that till it was over and she had a few rice grains on her specs and the rest all over the class-room. She knew after that she would have to be very, very careful with this 7 year old. She couldn’t take a broken ‘promise’.
Trisha walked onto the stage in front the whole hall that was full of everyone’s mummy and daddy and grandfathers and grandmothers. Where were hers in this big hall over flowing with so many people?
The music started, her teacher in the wings anxiously encouraged her to start singing.
She did, even as her eyes searched for her family…
She went into an alaap just the way her grandmother had taught her. But where was grandmother… The audience became very quiet, they realised that this child was exquisitely talented.
Ham chaahto ke gulam nahi
Ham dard se aage jate hain
Andheron se ghabrate nahi
Hamen chirag jalane aate hain
Ham hawa ka thanda jhoka hai
Ruki saanson ko chalate hain
Hum jal ki chalti dhaara hai
Sookhi zameen ko hara banate hain
Khate meethe sab sawaal hamare
hamari gol-mol koi baat nahi
Rang- birange hain khel hamare,
Hai seedhi-sachhi baat yahee.
Andheron ki kaali chadar par
Tim-timate Taron ko chipkate hain
Pedon ko rangeen pankh de kar
Zamin ko aasman par le jate hain
After the second stanza she spotted her mummy and daddy. He wasn’t wearing his blue shirt, the one she’d told him to… where was daadi? She wasn’t there, nor was grandpa!
The audience could sense something was wrong. The child’s concentration had wavered and stopped mid-stanza. Rakesh without realizing it held Swati’s hand. For once he wished his daughter would behave like her grandfather instead of… Trisha stopped singing. There was a dead silence in the hall. Those who sat in front rows could see the expression the face of this talented child changed. In fact, it froze, as if an iron cast had come over it. Trisha froze.
Her teacher knew what this meant, she knew it was useless to urge or force her to do anything at this point. Trisha was not like other children in many ways. She went to the stage and very gently led Trisha away. The incomplete song and the audience’s wonder hung in the air like Damocele’s sword. She will be called to the Principal’s office afterwards, she knew that.
Her parents came back-stage to take her home.
When Trisha returned after a week to school, her friends found her changed. They tried to make her feel ‘good’ and tried to play with her, just as Miss Sheela had asked them to, but Trisha wasn’t interested in playing. In fact she wasn’t interested in anything anymore. She didn’t even stand near the window and sing songs like she used to.
Her best friend told everyone,
“It’s because she misses her grandmother, who has now become a star.”
“No silly, her grandmother has gone to God.”
“That’s how you become a star!”
Even though everyone tried to make Trisha laugh and play, she didn’t do anything. Then the children gave up trying.
“Miss Sheela, Trisha has become like the statue in the hall,” a kid remarked.
Her teacher was worried. After a fortnight she called the parents.
“It’s not just a question of loss,” Swati explained to Miss Sheela, but before she could say anything more, Rakesh’s urgent voice took over,
“Look, she had prepared so hard and that song was taught by mother. So, when the Annual Day fell on my mother’s birthday, Trisha told her that she will give it her best and that would be her birthday gift for her. She was really excited and even selected what clothes all of us would wear. She made my mother promise that she will be there on the Annual day no matter what. That’s how it would have been had she not had a stroke the night before…”
“I understand, it is difficult for anyone to bear this.”
Miss Sheela could see that Rakesh had drifted,
“It’s so unfair…” he muttered to himself. She noticed that both his fists were clenched.
Swati and Sheela looked at each other.
Rakesh came home earlier than usual. He was in time to have dinner with everyone else, instead of having it in his study with his lap-top.
“I’m not hungry,” he told Swati dryly, “you people eat.”
He watched his little daughter having her dinner, it was as if she’d lost her taste buds. A few months earlier she would have demanded ice-cream and would have created fuss over the soup. Not anymore.
He ripped off his tie and threw himself on the bed. He was tired in every way. He was sick of office politics, he couldn’t reach the targets his bosses set and his subordinates couldn’t meet theirs. He’d lost his mother and the spirit of life had been sucked away from his daughter. He still had his father and his wife, but where would she go anyway? It was his daughter who wrenched his heart. If only, all that hadn’t happened the way it did… God wasn’t fair, if there is a God that is, he could never make up his mind …
“What’s the matter Rakesh why are you so tired?” his wife asked him after dinner.
“Nothing, just work,”
He actually wanted to say, that it was life and its unfairness. It wasn’t fair that after working so hard that people didn’t recognize him enough and that had to struggle to keep office politics under check, too many rats there. He had either been manipulating or pressurizing people almost all his life. Even at home he had to put pressure on his wife to leave work when their daughter was born. It was selfish of her to want to work when they had a baby to take care. Thank goodness his mother made her see sense.
“Tell me, your shoulders are stiff and heavy,” she put her hands on his shoulders to ease the tension, it always reflected in his taut posture before showing on his face.
“It’s nothing,” even as he said it, his head leaned back onto the softness of her breasts, and he let go… When he opened his eyes there were tears in them.
In the morning, when they were having their leisurely Sunday breakfast, Trisha surprised all of them with a question,
“Mummy why don’t you work anywhere like my teacher and the aunty next door?”
They all looked at each other Rakesh at Swati, Swati at Rakesh and then both at Grandpa. No one was prepared for this. They were relieved and puzzled at the same time…
“Umm... I can sweetheart, but it’s been a long time,” Swati fumbled.
“You see Trisha, before you were born Mummy was a designer, then God designed that you come and then she started to take care of you…”
“And you are worth much more than any job…” Swati quickly added, not being able to figure out what was going on in her little daughter’s mind.
Trisha was quiet, lost in thought. Then after a long, pensive pause…
“In my school, Ganesh says, God doesn’t do anything for anyone and people don’t become stars when they die…”
They were all benumbed, not being able to make the connection, but took a deep breath, at least she’d started asking questions again.
Later, Swati wondered why Trisha had asked what she did. Had she and Rakesh ever argued in front of Trisha over her wanting to work again? But she couldn’t remember any such time, they were both careful about not arguing in front of their child.
“Swati, I want to tell you something,” Rakesh’s voice was so soft that she was almost afraid.
“The day before Ma had that final stroke, she’d talked to me about you. She’d said that we’d been too rigid about your not working and that after Trisha started going to school, I should have encouraged you. She’d felt guilty I think… or I don’t know, may be something else, after all she couldn’t pursue singing after she’d got married. I meant to talk to you about it but then everything happened so suddenly… I think Trisha was there in the room when we were talking. I’m… I should have discussed this with you.”
“It’s okay Rakesh, I’m fine really. I never even felt the inclination to work… I’ve always felt fulfilled.”
Rakesh drew his breath in fast, short gasps – why did he never feel fulfilled? Even after success, even after money. How could she let go so easily? He took a deep breath and then asked her,
“Swati are you telling me you didn’t mind not being able to work, in a way we imposed upon you, isn’t that like giving up your identity… it’s not really fair?”
“Identity isn’t dependent on other people, otherwise it wouldn’t be your real identity. I don’t see why Ma should have felt guilty, I’ve loved looking after Trisha.”
Rakesh didn’t go to office that day. In the afternoon he went to pick up Trisha from her school. He met Sheela, her class teacher at the gate.
“Hello Mr. Awasthi, I’m surprised to see you here today.”
“So, am I,” Rakesh laughed.
“It’s strange that I should run into you, but perhaps I could mention it, Trisha asked a question today after a very long time, she asked me if everything had to be fair?”
“Oh… and how did you answer that?”
“I was taken aback, but I did tell her that we should try to be as fair as we could and not feel too bad when things did seem too fair… I suppose some where we have to let go,” Sheela looked at his face carefully.
“I don’t really know, but I hope that helps Mr. Awasthi.”
Rakesh didn’t respond to that, he was lost again. She politely took her leave, and he went to take Trisha.
A chubby boy waved to his daughter, “Bye Trisha, and don’t forget.”
“Bye Ganesh,” she said, so quietly that no one heard her.
“What shouldn’t you forget Trisha? What was your friend talking about?” Rakesh got curious as he fastened Trisha seat belt.
Trisha was quiet at first, then she told him,
“That people don’t become stars when they die, stars are just fire.”
Rakesh drew a deep long breath and sighed, he felt the urge to smoke, to take a long, long puff.
At the dinner table Rakesh told Swati and his father who had just returned from his pilgrimage about the conversation at school. But Trisha didn’t join them for dinner, she wasn’t in her room. Rakesh got a little concerned, when his father gestured him to be quiet. They could hear a voice in the balcony.
There under the stars, Trisha was singing the song that she’d left unsung on stage.
They didn’t know that her little friend had told Trisha,
“That people don’t become stars when they die, stars are just fire. But they do listen even after they die especially at night if they love you…”
That day a song drifted from the heart of child and melted into the light of the stars.
- Harvinder Kaur
(Published in Life Positive magazine)
