Sana.

‘Statue!' She yelled.

And my body froze. Immobilized; with fear, shock, resentment and a whole lot of other emotions that i can and will never attempt to word.

I stood still;
Right there in the middle of our drawing room feeling like a buffoon on the stage. A ludicrous joker that has to wear a comedy mask when he is living an inexplicable pain. Playing Statue with her has always entertained me, but today it seemed torturous.

My hands were outstretched;
As if trying to hold the vacant air for support. The toes were raised much above the ground, a step taken but not completed. A teardrop dried to die somewhere in between my cheeks and the lips, the morbid eyelashes were in the middle of a tired blink. The pale mouth was half open; having stopped from uttering a sound. And a thick strand of air was fluttering on my sharp nose in response to the cold breeze that trespassed through the windows.

My eyes rolled;
A half finished painting was leaning on the wall, intercepted. A magazine open in the middle page, a blue paint brush threatening to fall off, a sipped coffee mug, a crumpled wipe cloth, a repaired alarm clock, an old greeting card, a withered sunflower petal and a pen stand filled with cap less pens were strewn on her writing table. And of course the folder too.

She took few rapid steps, slowly walking towards the table. She stood there frozen like i was, for a split second before touching the file. A stripe of sunlight from the window fell on her, brightening the wheatish skin on palms. She lifted the fated file to her chin and held it tight near her bosom and closed her eyes, as if praying to lord; who of course cannot change what is written inside.

She then opened the folder slowly, then agitatedly. With fear, with anxiety, filled with apprehension .And on opening it she let her tense fingers search for that page, the eyeballs glancing through the words. A mad dread shone in her eyes, they moved in an orderly pattern from left to right, right to a line below in the left. And from one corner of the left eye, she was policing me, making sure iam still ‘Statue’.

My outstretched arms implored to strangle the doctor who handed over the report, to a cruel death. The pen in my cupboard etched to strike off the “positive” on that sheet. My mind wriggled inside the head craving to kill the cancerous anger and the burgeoning ache.

She had read it. She closed the file in a brisk second and came walking towards me. As she stood an inch away from my own body, i smelled her affectionate fragrance and heard her heart beat fast. Sensed that her shoulders were weak, her eyes widowed, her lips wanted to explode, her hair ruffled, her nose breathing and the forehead lined with fear.

She then smiled. Extended her hand , got them closer to my cheeks and wiped away that single tear that had left a wet mark and said “Release”. I was still ‘still’. Numb with sorrow. Numb with numbness.

Both looked into each others eyes, hers piercing into mine. Sorrow was exploding from within; anger was killing every happiness i’ve ever known in my life. And my lips stammered in a shameful fashion.

Mumbling, saying something, but not anything. How can I say anything? I was tattered. I wanted to say a lot of things, but how can i manage to give her platitudes? How can i give her courage when I’ve none left? How can a beggar give alms? I wanted to cry, shriek, shout, or jump like an insane beggar. Do anything to get rid of the fury against anyone i can be furious with. But I continued to stand still. ‘I won’t cry’, I promised myself.

Her index finger touched my palms and my heart skipped a beat. She is alive and she is mine, I thought. I squeezed her palm, light and then tight. The grim silence spoke with the zephyr, asking when this moment will end.

She knelt down wearily, continuing to hold my fingers. Then squatted on the mosaic floor and looked down as if trying to catch a reflection of her face and the emotions scribbled on it on the floor. Then she looked up, her eyes watery.

She asked “when do the chemotherapy sessions start”?

I remained silent. I continued to play “Statue”.

*****************************************************************

I put my head round the door of the ward, and peeped in.

She lay there on the bed, staring out across the lawn through the window pane. She was there, but not there. Somehow stilled.I waited outside for sometime, asking myself if I was ready to join her yet.

I rehearsed the sentences i would speak and recollected the collected demeanor i would display. Decided on the detached manner in which i would kiss her cheek as if saying “Nothing has happened really; I’m strong, and you too should be”.

I would take control; I reminded myself one last time and looked onto the aching blue sky of the dreadful evening. I walked inside, in a casual way. Stood there, x meters away from her cot and smiled a tender smile. It took all in me to stay clam and ask her "What does it feel like?"

She looked at me, with a sly smile and answered “Incomplete”.

Her answer killed me. I could no longer stand there, could not craft composure. I ran as fast as i can to her. Grabbed her by the tender shoulders, pulled her close to me, hugged her tight and kissed her. Softly and fiercely.

And cried. A loud wail that shook me, that calmed her.A scream that suffocated my inhibited sorrow. I clasped my hands with hers, caressed her disheveled hair & embraced her-her pain. Sensing that void in her chest, i took her long face in between my palms kissed her eyes and smiled between my tears.

“I feel complete now” She said.

Our stale life seems alive now, hope on the very rim of existence.

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(Sana - A Prayer )