Apekshaa

"How is he doing?” I ask.

I often am amazed by the capacity i possess to burden my tone with such nonchalance and indifference, while experiencing a burgeoning array of emotions deep inside. Amazed by the way I utter such dispassionate words, that are not even remotely close to what I intend to say. How do I manage this serenity?

**

“Have to leave in an hours time”, She replies.

“How is Sid?” I ask again.

I insist you answer me, I intend to say.

“How is life at college?” I ask.

I’m dying to know if you are comfortable there! Curious to hear from you stories about interesting people you have befriended and tales of those exciting ragging sessions. Yen to chide you as you narrate the experiences on your first date. Tell me all about it darling, I intend to say.

“You wont speak, will you?” I ask.

She pouts. The most adorable of her gestures.His,rather.

She crosses her left leg over the right, adjusts her skirt in a oh-so-elegant fashion and tucks in the permed hair behind her ears. And for the first time in the last 15minutes lifts her eye from the menu she was posing to be looking at, to look at me.

She smiles the familiar plastic smile, ignores my question and retorts "I will not have the soup".

**

She loves soups, especially the tomato one they serve here. So does he. Sid has never had a dinner here without starting off without a fresh veg soup.

I’ve looked at awe, the way she closes her eyelids to smell the aroma of fresh tomato mixed in the cold breeze, relishing it as if it were a divine feeling.

But she refuses to try it today.Why would she, I have suggested it!

We never look eye-to-eye on anything.Also because she is much taller than I, she took after her dad. In almost everything, probably the biggest reason why I love her so.

**

Like a circle, it revolves. My life with no traces of where it began, where it stands now and where it is heading to end.

Birthdates are pseudo in nature, mom told me I was born on this date and I have been celebrating my trivial birth over an over again, year after year hoping that this “one” would be the best ever. So do I, this time too.

New resolutions, new wishes and a new beginning-all over again. Trusting that the experiences of past have enriched my soul, making me wiser, tougher and womanly. And more deserving, to mother.

This time i await her “yes”. This time I expect forgiveness. This time again, filled with the ecstatic delight of meeting my daughter after a year ,pregnant with the hope of regaining her love.Hoping,he will send her to me. He will be back. We will be family, again.

**

“Did you color your hair?” I try to initiate a conversation, like always.

“Are you still drinking, your eyes are swollen?”

“Its just the old age, I guess” I say and laugh out aloud, as if it were a great joke. She stares at me, with disbelief.

She is mum again, goes back to reading the menu religiously. And I go back to starring a the ‘blue’ painting on the wall. I bet no mother goes through such an uneasy nervousness on dining with her kid.

**

Sometimes (or most times)I see myself reliving the past, recollecting every single second of love and pain experienced, smiling and breaking down simultaneously.

Hours later, you will find me lying on the bed, cuddled to “Paradise Lost”-his all time favourite,close to my heart.

The thought that I’m left with nothing but this darkroom i shut myself every night in, the tinkle of the wind chimes and the dark shadow of impending pain lurking ahead in my life scares me to death.

Some loses can never be compensated for, like the ones I’ve had.

**

“By the way, Happy Birthday!” She says.

The blithe unconcern and apathy in her voice tires me, my tear glands for the want of some rest decide not to respond.

“Thanks” I smile.

“What have you got for me?” I ask, like a little child enthused by the thought of a gift, longing to tear open the gift wrapper.

“Some good news!” She retorts and begins to pick at her food.

**

I stare at her, trying to guess if she has taken a decision. Is she coming back,afterall? Is she going to be mine, forever?

I wait for her to speak, tell me what I’ve been longing to hear for the last 13yrs.This torturous separation from her would have killed me, but for the tenacious hope I’ve nurtured.

“You want to know what I’ve decided, don’t you?

I nodded by head, affirming that I did. Don’t make me wait; just say it, I intended to order.
My heart began beating fast. Faster than his, I must add. The memories of those sleepless night lying on his chest and listening to the song of his heart rushed past my eyes.

**

“Would you like to have some desert?” the waiter interrupted. Our thought process.

“No, not really. Get us the bill.” I tried being polite.

“Pls wait, I would like to have something”. she went back to menu again.

**

Her voice trailed off. I was lost, in the midst of my muddled mind. Just like the other day. The court had given its verdict. An irresponsible woman can’t be trusted with a small child. The child would live with her dad till she is an adult, after which she……

The wind was blowing fast, hitting hard our faces. I sat there letting the wind take on, relishing the cold as its passion lingered on. Why is the wind so enchanting? Why do all the seemingly invisible things around us bless us with pleasurable passion and torture alike?

For instance, the love for my daughter.

We are such emotional beings, or are we physical beings? Or is there a difference ? Did I feel any pain at all when she was cut off my womb? I did, I seemed to have known this is the first of the worst separations to come.

When the court adjudged me as incapable of bringing up my own child, I couldn’t sense any hurt. It was simple bitterness! All these years of penance, was I alive really?

**

“I’m moving in with you, this Sunday”. She smirked.

Her words felt like the first snowfall that cut your shoulders with a cruel cold. Rhapsodic pain, Sid calls it.

I couldn’t feel the pleasure I’d hoped to experience, probably because I’d imagined she wouldn’t come back until Sid disappears from her life. Her decision shocks me. And I wonder if she was pushed to take the decision, the cold look on her face confuses me.

I can’t trust that she is coming back. Is this for real? Or is it one of those dreadful nights when my ever active mind concocts my desires to cook up a fancy story?

I can’t smile. I can’t cry. I can’t even sense the numbness I feel every night after a tiring “cry” session.

I stare at the evening sky, let the setting sun’s rays poke into my iris and see the sun melting into a dull gray dusk. I look back at her, and let the image of her poignant look seep into my body and soul.

Drunken by an eccentric bliss, I smiled through the hot tears.

**

“Can I pick you up from home? I ask, hoping to catch a glimpse of his face.

“Of course, you are invited for the ceremony”, She replies.

“Ceremony?”

“It is the 13th day!” She replied.

**
Like a circle, it revolves. My life with no traces of where it began, where it stands now and where it is heading to end.

Birthdates are pseudo in nature, mom told me I was born on this date and since then I’ve celebrated my trivial birth over an over again, year after year hoping that this “one” would be the best ever. So do I, and this time too.

Hoping, I can convince her against going abroad for her education. Hoping, she will be continue to live with me.

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Apekshaa – Anticipation