Ambika stared long at the tiny body wrapped up in that crisp white cloth. The red shirt looked like a blotch of blood on the cloth, staining the cloth of its purity. There were several white bundles of dead bodies lying around her, stripping away the peaceful glory which the colour white had boasted of for all these years. The little boy looked like in deep sleep; except for the bloated face caused by lying in the water for several hours, there were no injury marks. She touched his cold hands, tracing the length of his tiny fingers, imagining them holding colour pencils and drawing mountains, streams, tiny huts, birds and what not. Her Sannath was just the same, always drawing mountains he was never destined to see and filling colors that were never to touch his life.
"Is there no one who has claimed this boy's body? Should we burn it with the rest of the unclaimed bodies?" Ambika was jostled out of her reverie by the voice behind her.
"No sir, it is not an unclaimed body. I will... eer.. this is my ...." Ambika's voice trailed as tears welled up in her eyes.
The man stared at her expressionlessly and a bit impatiently. He had seen this scene several times in the past few weeks. There were alot of bodies to be disposed and he did not have all day to waste with this one body. He hurridly thrust a piece of paper and pen into Ambika's hands and said, "Ma'am sign here please. And please mention your relation with the deceased." Saying this he moved over to another set of grieving family. Ambika stared long and hard at the sheet of paper in her hands. Her hands trembled as she poised the pen over the paper, and wrote on the dotted lines next to the colomn marked as relationship - "Mother!"
As the flames licked up the body on the pyre, as the smoke rose upwards billowing her days of anguish, as the scent of burning body wafted up her nostrils, Ambika smiled through her tears. Her mind was at peace at last, her son's soul was at peace atlast. She had found what she had craved for in the past 3 years, closure!
A few weeks ago:
"Ambika, come here quickly, the news channles are flashing scenes from of the Uttarkhand floods. This is a horrific tragedy. I hope the clothes we donated reach the people stranded up there. Every small bit of help counts in these moments."
Ambika did not move from her place. She could hear her husband calling her, but she wanted sometime alone. Giving away Sannath's clothes, plucking out the remains of his existence from the house; she had felt she was losing him all over again. When her friend had called up asking her if she had clothes to donate for the relief fund her immediate reaction had been a no. Later as she sat in Sannath's room, smoothening out the bedspread, straightening the books in the book shelf; her mind went back to the call. What if Sannath had been stuck in the disaster; what if it had been Sannath who needed her help right now? Had she not wished a million times that if only there had been someone to help Sannath as he had thrashed about the water, his head bobbing about like a ball in the water flow. She had stood there helplessly on the river side, as he drifted away from her sight, his clothes a splash of colours on the frothy water current. His body was never found; her little boy was never seen again.
She picked up the phone and called back her friend, " Hello Meena, I do have a few clothes to donate. Mostly children's clothes, somewhere a little boy like my Sannath must be waiting for someone to come rescue him. Infact, I would like to accompany you to the disaster site and see if I can be of some help in the rescue work."
She took out all of Sannath's clothes and placed them over the bedspread. She wanted to have a last look at them before she packed them away from her life forever. Her eyes caught the bright red tee shirt, peeping out at her from beneath the pile of clothes. It was his favourite tee-shirt; he would wear it around the house every other day, annoying Ambika to no end. And now, how she longed for just a glimpse of him clad in his red tee-shirt.
With a sigh, Ambika placed the shirt on the white bedspread; the bright red like a blotch of blood in the white cloth!
"Is there no one who has claimed this boy's body? Should we burn it with the rest of the unclaimed bodies?" Ambika was jostled out of her reverie by the voice behind her.
"No sir, it is not an unclaimed body. I will... eer.. this is my ...." Ambika's voice trailed as tears welled up in her eyes.
The man stared at her expressionlessly and a bit impatiently. He had seen this scene several times in the past few weeks. There were alot of bodies to be disposed and he did not have all day to waste with this one body. He hurridly thrust a piece of paper and pen into Ambika's hands and said, "Ma'am sign here please. And please mention your relation with the deceased." Saying this he moved over to another set of grieving family. Ambika stared long and hard at the sheet of paper in her hands. Her hands trembled as she poised the pen over the paper, and wrote on the dotted lines next to the colomn marked as relationship - "Mother!"
As the flames licked up the body on the pyre, as the smoke rose upwards billowing her days of anguish, as the scent of burning body wafted up her nostrils, Ambika smiled through her tears. Her mind was at peace at last, her son's soul was at peace atlast. She had found what she had craved for in the past 3 years, closure!
A few weeks ago:
"Ambika, come here quickly, the news channles are flashing scenes from of the Uttarkhand floods. This is a horrific tragedy. I hope the clothes we donated reach the people stranded up there. Every small bit of help counts in these moments."
Ambika did not move from her place. She could hear her husband calling her, but she wanted sometime alone. Giving away Sannath's clothes, plucking out the remains of his existence from the house; she had felt she was losing him all over again. When her friend had called up asking her if she had clothes to donate for the relief fund her immediate reaction had been a no. Later as she sat in Sannath's room, smoothening out the bedspread, straightening the books in the book shelf; her mind went back to the call. What if Sannath had been stuck in the disaster; what if it had been Sannath who needed her help right now? Had she not wished a million times that if only there had been someone to help Sannath as he had thrashed about the water, his head bobbing about like a ball in the water flow. She had stood there helplessly on the river side, as he drifted away from her sight, his clothes a splash of colours on the frothy water current. His body was never found; her little boy was never seen again.
She picked up the phone and called back her friend, " Hello Meena, I do have a few clothes to donate. Mostly children's clothes, somewhere a little boy like my Sannath must be waiting for someone to come rescue him. Infact, I would like to accompany you to the disaster site and see if I can be of some help in the rescue work."
She took out all of Sannath's clothes and placed them over the bedspread. She wanted to have a last look at them before she packed them away from her life forever. Her eyes caught the bright red tee shirt, peeping out at her from beneath the pile of clothes. It was his favourite tee-shirt; he would wear it around the house every other day, annoying Ambika to no end. And now, how she longed for just a glimpse of him clad in his red tee-shirt.
With a sigh, Ambika placed the shirt on the white bedspread; the bright red like a blotch of blood in the white cloth!
