Amma talks…
I sit in the hospital, feeling the hammer blow of losing my child’s love
And I am lost
Long years ago, dressed in a white cotton blouse and blue pavadai (long skirt), I was making my way along the forested path to school. I was late, so I enjoyed the beauty of the sun glinting, creating bright yellow stars here and there in the towering canopy. I was going to be punished anyway, so why hurry? I traced the rays as they appeared on the leaves, disappearing into nothing, when I noticed a fawn. Right there, in front of me! It gazed back in silence, through large black eyes.
I stood, transfixed. A small group gathered. Two men in dhotis tied at the waist, tried to go close, their mouths agape in frozen toothy smiles, hands outstretched. A few women stood by, their mouths open, palms on cheeks as though to hold their jaws in place.
Dumbstruck, I could not gather the words to tell those men to leave the baby alone. Suddenly the fawn kicked out, taking long graceful leaps and disappeared from sight.
Where’d it go? I piped up
Gone to its mother, she’ll be some distance away, a woman assured.
But I hadn’t seen her. The mother. What if she wasn’t there? What if it never found its mother? It would be lost!
As was I, when I ventured out, with Pari. Lost. With no mother to turn to, no placed to return. And when my sister suggested that I block my husband’s blows with my body, I bottomed out.
Lost… at the bottom of a pit
‘… and you? You?’
He interrupts... this man, sitting up, strapped down by monitors and acting like he bears too much: Do you love me?
I snap. I came back, didn’t I?
He (his voice dangerously quiet): You had no choice! Lack of choice is not love. I am asking if you love me
I’m tired. Tired of giving in to fear. Tired of pretending love. How much should I fear?
I look at Pari, her eyes boring through me. This is what I fear. I fear losing face in front of my child, my children.
I lean forward in my chair and look him directly in the eye
I feel a tremor arise, I let it be
Tears roll down my face, I let them
I keep my tone low.
You asked for a chance. This is that chance. Do you have the strength to keep your promise not to hit? Not the children. Not me
There! I said it.
What a relief! I turn to look at Pari, her eyes are on her hero father
Leader of family
The ONE we must obey
Supreme Being
Who falls back in bed and kicks his legs
Toddler-like
A toddler throws a tantrum and demands affection from the same person.
I am facing a toddler in adult form! That’s love? How much have I lost, trying to understand
I know now, I am not lost, I know what I seek
I seek to regain face before my children
We may not realise it
Our children watch our every feature, our every action, that’s how they learn to navigate the world
As children grow, they hear, Don’t cry, and slowly learn that crying is for the weak, they trust what they learn
And turn to the parent checking back whether this information holds true for them
My book of short stories, The Violent Potter, is available on Amazon. The book is intended for an audience of parents, teachers and grandparents of young children
Link: http://tinyurl.com/466tvf5f
Each story highlights the gap between adult expectations and child perspective. The book is in two parts, Part 1 sees the impact of the gap while Part 2 sees what happens when someone fills the gap with loving perspective.