See you soon...

She had bright eyes, which could speak volumes, which could reflect a sense of pure affection, care, love and wisdom. She often used to take me away from Ma to a place which I hated initially, but started to love gradually.  She would make me sit on her lap, beneath the dim orange light bulb on a cold cemented surface and melodise my soul with her enthralling voice. My grandma said she sounds horrible but I found her no less than a nightingale.

She always would sing me songs of self-belief and hope, “Amra korbo joy, amra korbo joy akdin” (We shall overcome someday) and “purano shei diner kotha” (good old days) were one of her favourites and mine too. Every time she sang she filled life in those songs, gave it a new meaning every day. I preferred her over the television, as it never pulled me closer to its heart, hug me and make me feel heaven as she used to, although it sang the same songs. I always used to ask her one question “Mamuni, when is the war going to end?” and she would answer with a smile “Soon”. She was different, than the rest, than everyone.

She begun to move away from me as we both grew older, the only difference was she grew wrinkles and I grew more skin. The so called daily life tore us apart.

 This time when I came to meet her, I saw her sitting on the same place and singing the same songs. But I found I was too heavy for her laps; they have grown too weak to carry me. She welcomed me with a smile, the smile which masked loneliness and pain. I asked her to show me the reports; she refused at first but finally showed; now the mask was down. I asked in nervousness with my eyes on her “This is going to get better, this will end wouldn’t it?” tears rolled down my eyes. She wiped it off and answered “Soon”, she wore a smile as I looked at her…age didn’t snatch away her beauty. “Never lose hope my child, always be strong” she said holding my right hand, “everything happens for good, I have a journey to make, I will see you soon son”. I asked her about the journey in complexion but she refused to say, but said I will come to know of it soon, I smiled. While I left, she asked me not to look back, I kissed her cheeks and walked away, I didn’t look back.

I doubted her when she uttered the word “soon”, always have, until my parents got a call at 8 PM of the night. They seemed to be in a hurry after that, they just told me it’s related to Mamuni. I gathered my strength, I was doing what she had asked me or rather told me to do, “Be strong” I said to myself.

We reached there by 8.45, and all we could hear was the croaking of frogs coming from the backyard, no songs this time, the veranda was alone; it was all silent.

As I stepped in I saw people sitting on the floor with their heads down, some of the heads looked familiar. But as I advanced I saw more people surrounding a lady who was lying on the floor and wrapped a brown sari around her, she was my Mamuni. I kneeled down, I was stunned. I could hear cries from behind, but I didn’t look back. My eyes were not ready to move from the smile that she still wore, they were intact, both of them.

Now I believed the word “soon”, she was always right. It ended; she is free, from all her pain. Now I came to know the journey she was talking about. I didn’t cry, as I thought not to be that selfish. I pushed back my tears, bend down and with a broken smile kissed her cold cheeks and said

“I will see you soon Mamuni, goodbye for now”

-SHOUVIK rryan ROY