One more middle of mine friends..

An Aching Memory

WHEN you have an umbrella to keep rain off you, you don’t fear rain. It is the same with life, if you have an emotional umbrella, a financial umbrella to protect you from the onslaught of life, you don’t fear life. Like losing everything to the last penny in the purse, some lose love and affection to the last bit; a state so unprotected and so uncared for, they are constantly on the look out for an umbrella to protect their hearts, when they find one, they grab it and hold on to it tight, fearing the mere thought of losing it…

I saw that fear in her eyes, old, sunken, dry eyes of a woman of eighty plus. A proud mother of seven, who brought up all of them with undying fresh dreams about their future, but who never thought for a minute that their future may not have a place for herself. The crushing injustice is, at the pre-natal stage they shared her blood and womb, as adults they shared her little savings and in return showed her a dirty corner in the vegetable market, next to a heap of rotten fruits and vegetables. What a gift to a mother, -mother, the life spring of one’s existence…

The day I met her first, she was eyeing the ripe bananas in my basket and the hunger in those eyes hit me with force in my gut. When I gave her those, she accepted with a smile so baby-like and shy, I adopted her straight away in my mind. After few days I had come to know the above pathetic story of a deserted mother.

The mid-day meal I used to give her used to sustain the frail body of hers till the next mid-day meal. Packing lunch for her along with my sons became my routine. One day I noticed how soiled and muddy her saree was and how her skin had scratch marks and boils. She urgently needed a bath.

When I asked her where she takes bath, she showed me a public tap, which is almost always dry and she told me that urchin boys throw stones at her and make fun of her when she tries to take bath….seeing the thin film of tears in her sunken eyes was truly heart wrenching. From that day, she used to come home twice a week or so for a hot water bath. I used to call her ‘ajji’ and she used to call me ‘amma’. I was happy, taking a little care of someone else’s amma!
My husband or my children never protested or said anything against my wishes ever, but in this case, I felt genuinely blessed to have such a family, because they used to volunteer to take food for her, never commented about her negatively… in fact in their silence I used to feel the pain they are feeling for that ajji….

One day when I took food for her, I found her beaming. She told me that her grandson plans to come from Udupi to take her to his place for good and that I need not take the trouble of bringing lunch for her anymore. She held my hand and squeezed it with so much love, I shared her happiness and wished that her grandson looks after her well! After a long time she is having a family and a home of her own…I felt a deep joy at that thought…not knowing it will be a short lived one..

After a week or so, I heard a boy calling out to me, that the market ajji’ is calling me. I rushed with her small lunch box and her condition brought tears to my eyes. Her grandson never kept his promise and in that dejection and gloom and gnawing hunger, she waited for ‘amma’ to bring food and refused anything from anybody it seems. When she started eating the sambar rice I took for her, I knew why God made me meet her.

But the end of our relationship came so suddenly, I am still not reconciled to it. One morning she left market to come for a bath, but never reached our house nor could be traced anywhere else. I get a sick feeling in my stomach to think what could have happened; there is nothing positive or rosy to the whole picture. The familiar but empty corner in the market hurts me and my heart aches for that ‘ajji’.

“Lord, if you want to give suffering to someone for some bad karma, be it so, but never let a mother suffer at her own children’s hands. It is the most severe punishment and you are called ‘the most benevolent’. The paradox can taint your supreme figure…” my heart laments…

Dear Ambika
I shed a tear for that Ajji too .

Manjula

Thank You,Ambika.I dont know whom I salute first-the writer in you or the angel in you. Looking forward to more.

affly
Vidya

Dear Ambika,
Your writing prowess is known to the world. And incidents like these bring out your tender heart. To shower love on a homeless woman, expecting nothing in return... well, I am proud of you Ambika. I am proud to belong to a site in which you are a member.
regards,
sridhar

Dear Ambika,

Oh! I shed a few tears on reading your middle. May your tribe increase, both in your benevolent nature and as a writer to spread the stories of humanity to everyone.

Thanks for a beautiful middle and keep them coming.

Vandhana

Dear Ambika

It was so touching. I do not have any words to express my feeling. Thank you very much.

regards
vidhi

Dear Ambika,
Your middle kept me engrossesd and I was literally living in the market. Like you I was also sad that all good things came to unexpected end.
Regards,
Meenu

Thanks my dear friends. Whenever I feel like posting a middle like this one, I feel hesitant, because I have an apprehension where it may seem like self-glorification. With your loving responses you put my fears to rest. You are all seeing the article in the right perspective. I want to portray thru my middles how 'misery' runs like a thread through the lives of some, and how in our own little way we can give them a little joy. Thanks to all of you..
Vidya, I can feel your love in calling me an angel. I have read somewhere, that we humans are all angels, but only with one wing...so we need to fly together, to soar high...thanks Vidya for saying something so wonderful...I will cherish this forever..
and Sridhar, all the love and best wishes I get here, I always share with you, since you are instrumental in me coming to know about IL, and since you encouraged me to send in my work. Thanks again my friend..
regards
ambika

Dear Ambika,

You write so well, that was could visualisethe market area and that corner where this 'Ajji' had lived ....so touching.....and not only did you share some part of your life with her, but you also did a good thing by sharing it on paper with so many of us.....true, we all come across such people who are left all alone in their old ages....be it in lower or upper class! All said and done they are left to suffer ! I too wonder at the play of God's game .....it really is always a mystery and misery to us!

Keep sharing all those lovely writings always with us!

i dont knw y ppl become so self centred as they age i have seen many parents suffering bcz their kids dont bother abt their existance getting philosophical i jst think maybe they r reaping wot they have sown but still being human it pains to hear the sufferings of a mother of seven .
maybe as human beings we can jst help a little within our limits and satisfy our inner concious .
warm regards to u for feeding her for many days :)