Minni, Lekha and me had kicked off for Thiruvananthapuram by a half past 7, this morning. My endeavour was to be with Nina's mom to the extent feasible. That was my way of telling her 'sorry' for not keeping my promise of visiting her.
I was beside her by about a trifle after 0930h. She was lying in state in the ornate sitting room looking elegant in an embroidered saree with appropriate border - her trademark style that's so very familiar to me and many of my folks. As I stood beside her with folded hands, almost every frame of my interaction with her came into focus with tremendous ease. Her easy laughter, the genuine interest in my academic performance, her outright disapproval of my mom's method of teaching me Maths - blood used to trickle down my arms from the pinchmarks - and an extra helping of my favourite sweets came in quick succession like frozen snapshots of a favourite photo album.
Her daughters and the lone son took turns to be near me to give me the details of her final days, upon my insistence. One of them showed me my letter that was dog eared and torn at a few of the folds, due to repetitive reading and a glance at it brought a lump to my throat. The children were unanimous in their observation that I was her favourite and she talked about me whenever my family was remembered! And I still wonder as to what was so special about me.
The two hours with her had come to a hasty end when she was transferred into the carriage for her final journey. I'd braced up to salute her as the cortege moved away and let go my tears that couldn't be controlled any longer.
Mrs Thangam Balaguru Soman or Nina's mamma, as I knew her, had become memory a trifle after 1, this afternoon.
Tailpiece.
The melancholy persists, even as I punch in these private thoughts!
I was beside her by about a trifle after 0930h. She was lying in state in the ornate sitting room looking elegant in an embroidered saree with appropriate border - her trademark style that's so very familiar to me and many of my folks. As I stood beside her with folded hands, almost every frame of my interaction with her came into focus with tremendous ease. Her easy laughter, the genuine interest in my academic performance, her outright disapproval of my mom's method of teaching me Maths - blood used to trickle down my arms from the pinchmarks - and an extra helping of my favourite sweets came in quick succession like frozen snapshots of a favourite photo album.
Her daughters and the lone son took turns to be near me to give me the details of her final days, upon my insistence. One of them showed me my letter that was dog eared and torn at a few of the folds, due to repetitive reading and a glance at it brought a lump to my throat. The children were unanimous in their observation that I was her favourite and she talked about me whenever my family was remembered! And I still wonder as to what was so special about me.
The two hours with her had come to a hasty end when she was transferred into the carriage for her final journey. I'd braced up to salute her as the cortege moved away and let go my tears that couldn't be controlled any longer.
Mrs Thangam Balaguru Soman or Nina's mamma, as I knew her, had become memory a trifle after 1, this afternoon.
Tailpiece.
The melancholy persists, even as I punch in these private thoughts!
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