eFiction India eFiction India Vol.02 Issue.09 | Page 46

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WS TR KR IH O P
O O S ES

Do you remember the day you asked me to
get ready to go to the hospital with Chhaya
as she needed me by her side? You told me
she was very sick and was gradually dying.
I was terribly scared of hospitals (and injections), but I went nonetheless. Chhaya was
dying. She was my only friend, and even she
was about to leave me forever. I was devastated at the thought of losing her forever, of
going back to my life without her. But you
consoled me. You explained to me calmly,
soothingly (I could never understand how
you do that), that Chhaya needed me more
than anyone else, just like I needed her. You
gave me the strength to stay with her and
support her, whichever way I could. And
I did.

to cut the cake; especially last year, when
Paa bought such a huge cake for me that
it almost reached my height. I knew it was
Chhaya’s loss, not mine. But I missed her
amidst the crowd, applauding heartily as I
blew the large candle on the chocolate raspberry cake, ordered specially for me. I didn’t
know if she ever understood my feelings for
her, as I never had the chance to express
them. She was unwell, and I didn’t want to
get all emotional and teary-eyed before her.

For a long time, Maa, I couldn’t understand
why Paa didn’t like Chhaya. Do you remember my sixth birthday, when I had invited
everybody for my birthday party, including
Chhaya? But she did not turn up. Paa was
so angry that I did not cut the cake in her
absence. He blamed you for everything. I
don’t know why Paa never had any restriction for using foul language, whereas you
kept mum as his voice reached the sky. You
always tell me you remain silent because
women are made that way. Men shout, and
women keep quiet. They just have different
dictionaries, you tell me, so they never use
the same words. I even asked you for that
dictionary once, so that I could steal a quick
peek into it, but you never gave it to me.

I have another confession for you, Maa. I
always got confused when you just hugged
me out of the blue and started crying,
asking why mothers had to part with their
little girls; why they couldn’t keep their
princesses clutched to their hearts forever.
I never really understood what you meant
by it then. But now I do. I know now
that it was me you were talking about
when you said that. You tried to hide the
truth from me for a long time, protect me
from its harshness, but it finally crept up
to stare me in the face when you weren’t
looking. Remember the day I put you in
deep trouble a couple of years back, while
playing hide-and-seek with Chhaya (a game
I grew up watching through the window
grills of my room)? I asked Chhaya to hide,
closed my eyes and counted till ten, but
when I opened my eyes, she was standing
right there. I asked her to hide once again,
counted, but no matter how many times
I crammed the logic into her tiny brain,
she just did not understand the concept of
hiding. To demonstrate the game, I took the
turn to hide and asked her to look out for
me. I hid in the last drawer of the wooden
cupboard, waiting for her to come find
me. I don’t remember when I fell asleep.
When I opened my eyes, Gupta uncle was
by my side in my bedroom. Paa looked
really upset. He said I was found unconscious there, after one whole day. He had
even filed a police complaint to find me. I
wanted to laugh at all of you. Couldn’t you
just ask Chhaya what had happened? She
would have told you what we were playing,
and you would have found me instantly.

Later that night, I asked Chhaya about her
absence but all I got was a mute look. Later,
you told me it was because of her illness. Yet
I called her every year till my last birthday,
even though I never waited for her again

Later that night, I heard screams from your
room. Paa was ranting in anger, blaming
you for everything, yet again. That night,
I couldn’t shut Paa’s scream out, no matter
how hard I tried. I heard him as he yelled,

I always accompanied her to the hospital
since then; did whatever you asked me to;
even swallowed her medicines for her, and
tolerated all the injections, so that she could
stay away from the pain. And I never cried.
Through everything I maintained a smiling,
happy face. After all, I wanted to be as good
a friend to Chhaya as she was to me. She
was the only one around me (including you,
Maa) who understood me completely, who
was always there for me, no matter what
happened. So, I laughed all day to make
her laugh along. My problems were nothing
compared to hers.

eFiction India | June 2014

“Why can’t you tell her the truth? She could
have been dead today. You are her mother.
So, act like one. Stop playing these childish games with her!” And for the first time
in my life, I heard you reply, “How can I
take away the one thing she loves so much.
We should fulfil her wishes now, at least.”
Though I could make no sense out of it
then, I now know what you and Paa were
talking about then. I realize what Karan
meant when he candidly confessed he was
happy I was dying, and that everyone would
love him more when I finally did. I don’t
even feel as sad or bitter now as I did when
I first heard him say it.
Maa, I have been in the hospital for quite
a few days now, and I have often overheard
doctors whispering to you apologetically
that there is no hope left. I know Chhaya is
not the only one dying. I know I am dying
too. I know my heart is very weak; and that
it can’t keep me alive any further. I know
everything now, and I want you to know I
forgive you – for not letting me go out, or
play, or jump, or run – so that I don’t exert
any pressure on my heart. I also want you
to forgive Karan for saying whatever he said
to me. He was the only one who didn’t lie
to me, and treated me like everyone else. I
am truly thankful to him for that.
But most of all, I am grateful t