Mira

Mira, spread her days shopping on the floor of her dingy kitchen after coming back from the local ‘bajar’. A few potatoes, radishes, onions and chillies rolled out from her red and green nylon shopping bag as she carefully took out two duck eggs from her bag and kept them aside. Duck eggs, in a spicy curry was a delicacy that Arun could die for, and this was something Mira rarely got the liberty to buy. It gave her immense gratification to see the glint in Arun’s eyes when she served him this dish. She then rummaged through the cane basket by her stove and found a shrivelled quarter of a pumpkin and a bit of ginger. She needed to hurriedly rustle up something for Arun’s breakfast. After filling up the aluminium kettle with two cups of water for tea and placing it on her stove, she started upon nimbly dicing the pumpkin and the potatoes for a ‘sabji on her ‘boti’ a metal blade on a stand, which is placed on the floor to slice up vegetables and cut fishes. A hot piping breakfast of chapati’ and a vegetable dish was all that Arun got, to fill up his stomach with for the entire day.

Arun was rubbing dry his wet hair with a towel as he peeked into the kitchen and called out, ‘ma, I am almost ready, my anatomy classes start at 9 sharp and Sumita Madam is very punctual’. Mira replied, I am ready as soon as you are, ‘babu’. This was what, Mira, lovingly called Arun. Mira laid out a steel thali of pumpkin sabji, four chapatis and a cup of sweet tea with some ginger added to it, on the floor. Then she laid out an embroidered square piece of jute rug for Arun to sit down on. While Arun had his breakfast and tea, Mira turned off her stove and squatted down in front of Arun, with her cup of tea. This was a few minutes of daily chitchat with her son, which made Mira contended and happy. “Ma, I am saving up a little every month from my stipend, to buy, ‘Grey’s Anatomy’, but let us go to Charu Market, next Sunday, to buy a bedsheet and a pair of slippers for you, Ma. The sheet on your ‘chouki’ is too tattered now and safety pin on your chappals is hurting your toes.” “We will see about that later, babu,” Mira intervened, “but this month, we need to get a pair of trousers for you, the ends of the ones you wear are in shreds.”

After Arun leaves to catch the tram, to Esplanade, Mira, takes a few bites from Arun’s leftovers, hastily gets ready in a starched and ironed ‘tant’ cotton sari, pins her ‘anchal’ in neat pleats with practiced hand, closes the only window of her small one-room rented place, locks the door and then proceeds to her NGO run school, ‘Mukta’, at Rashbehari Avenue, where she teaches destitute children. As Mira, sat down on the hand-pulled rickshaw, which she rented from near her home, she relaxed and allowed her thoughts to drift for the first time since she had woken up in the morning. There was a faint smile of contentment on her lips as she thought about the one and a half kattah of plot that she had bought recently, near Thakupukur Bajar, on the south-western fringes of Kolkata with her entire life savings of the past eighteen years. She thought to herself that if she had to go back and do that again with the same grit of fighting through each day just for some milk for Arun, and a meal of rice and ‘dal’ for herself, she would surely fail now. She wondered in amazement, at what drove a simple, unassuming, quiet young girl, just out of her teens to fight that battle, when she was abandoned by Arun’s father, just after two years of marriage, on the pretext, that she was a non-brahmin and dark complexioned with a slight squint in one eye, and that since his family was not approving of her, even after he had tried to persuade them to do so for two years, he thought it wise, not to go against the wishes of his family. Arun at that time was a toddler and he was holding on to his father’s pajama, and looking up toward him with a smile while making gurgling happy sounds.

Mira’s thread of thoughts were torn as the ‘rickshawalla’, brought the rickshaw to a standstill, near her school. Mira had come to school early today as she wanted to meet Ms. Mukherjee, the wife of the local councillor, who headed ‘Mukta’. Ms. Mukherjee was quite influential and had always stood by Mira and she had promised to arrange a house building loan for her from the nearest branch of the State Bank of India.

In a few months time, Saturday afternoons proved to be a much-awaited pleasure outing for the mother-son duo as they held the newly- bought bricks, sifted through the cement and lovingly ran their hands over the wooden framework, as they saw their dream taking shape. They both ran over the uneven brick-laden floor, and planned where, and on which side of the rooms to keep, what. They rubbed their hands in glee, when they saw sprouts from brinjal, tomato and cauliflower plants, which they had already planted behind their house. They immersed themselves in serious discussion on their way back home in an autorickshaw, on what colour cemented floor Arun’s bedroom should have, and which side of the kitchen should hold the concrete slab, where, the LPG burner would be placed. After all, Arun’s mother was ageing and it was getting increasingly difficult for her knees to squat on the floor and cook on the stove. Their combined mirth, slowly started lending a cocoon of comfort and security to their otherwise anxious nights and insecure days that they had together led, so far. 

Into his final year, Arun took to teaching Biology to a number of school students, to which his mother objected, severely. She said, “all our efforts will go to vain if you do not do well, in your final MBBS, Arun”. She was very proud of her handsome, fair and brilliant boy, and hoped to see him either in a private practice or in a hospital very soon. Just after he completed, his final MBBS exam, instead of taking a break and hanging out with his friends, Mira observed that Arun spent a lot of time at a nearby cyber café and came home quite late. When questioned, he used to reply that he was at the USIS, going through books. Mira soon learnt that Arun planned to appear for the USMLE exams, the Postgraduate Medical entrance exams for entry into MD programs at United States Medical Schools.

This was the first time that Arun had taken a major decision without even hinting about his plans to his mother, let alone, discussing or consulting with her. Mira was morose and depressed for a few days. She could understand that Arun’s dependence on her was ebbing slowly, which was only but natural. She had to let her boy free into his own world. The time had arrived, when the strapping and the comfort of the nest needed to be loosened.

The night before, Arun was to leave for John Hopkins University, School of Medicine in Baltimore, Maryland, Mira and Arun sat side by side on Arun’s bed for a long time, looking into the opposite wall and clasping on to each other’s hand. This was their world, from the time she was his mother, and, he, his son, and the bond had gone from strength to strength. Though unspoken, but they had promised to each other that they needed no other in this microcosm. And now it was breaking into two, and each of them was innately worried about the other’s wellbeing.

Mira was abruptly reminded of the fact that, a few last minute packing was needed to be completed, and as she started to slide off the bed, Arun held her back and slipped a cardboard box into her hand. “What is this, babu?” Mira uttered in amazement. “Something to keep us connected, Ma” replied Arun. He then opened the box, took out a shining new, smartphone and placed it on Mira’s hands, before touching her feet. Tears were flowing freely, in two pairs of eyes and the hazy watery view perhaps offered them the last contour of what was not to be, anymore, ever again.

Arun called Mira daily, around the time, Mira, woke up in the morning. That would be about the same time, around which, Arun would be returning to his rented apartment that he shared with another fellow Indian. Then Arun would call her up again to ask in details about a recipe while he cooked his dinner.

A school going teen, Aparna, belonged to a family that had built a home next to Mira’s house. Mira soon grew to be very fond of this chirpy girl. Api, as Mira, lovingly called Aparna, came to see her every day, and her presence was gradually filling up the void that had been created a few months earlier at Arun’s departure. Aparna taught Mira to Skype, and mother son were soon happily engaged in a friendly banter face to face, that both of them had been missing for so long. Life was slowly settling itself down for both of them. In a few months time, Mira was adept at using Whatsapp and Facebook too. A whole new world of connectivity and opportunities opened up to her. She held the smart phone close to her chest at night, as if wanting to feel her small ‘babu’, but all she could feel was the chill of the metallic body of the smart phone.

As one year got onto the next, one evening as Mira was instructing Arun on Skype on how to prepare ‘dimer dalna’ or spicy egg curry, the way, Arun liked, he seemed to want to say something to her. After some small talk, he suddenly blurted out that he wanted her to meet someone called Linda. Mira was a bit bewildered at first, but then understanding dawned on her. The news was so sudden that she was in a tizzy and did not know how to react properly. However, she managed a smile and agreed to a Skype session with Arun and Linda the very next day.

At night as she gathered her thoughts to herself, she kept rationalising and fighting her own emotions. This was the second important decision of Arun’s life that he had taken without even informing her. Then she reasoned with herself, that perhaps he must have felt embarrassed to break this news to his mother and actually it was only a matter of time, Arun ultimately would have fallen for one of his white female colleagues. Mira understood the pangs of loneliness and empathised with Arun. In midst of this mental and emotional debate, as Mira floated off to sleep, she felt that she was complete and happy in Arun’s happiness.

Next evening back from work, Mira took extra care to clean her face, put on a bindi and wore a fresh ‘tant sari, as she and Api waited for, Arun’s call. As Arun’s call came through, she could feel excitement tingling at her fingertips, as she pressed the green button. Arun’s nervous face, hovered on the screen. “Ma, here is Linda, I want you to meet her”. Arun moves aside from the screen and a beaming Linda’s face became visible as she folded her hands in a ‘namaste’. Mira felt her smile fading, and her muscles stiffening. The frosted reticence was palpable on both sides. A few minutes of awkward silence followed, and Arun tried to cover up the iciness with a few niceties, but the truth of perception was out in the open.

That night, Mira cried like never before. Much more than she had cried, the day, her husband had abandoned her, more profusely than the day, Arun had left for the US. She had faced many hardships and disappointments in life and it was actually very odd that such a seemingly insignificant disappointment of Linda being a black American, older in age to her son, could break her down to such an extent. But though she kept reasoning with herself, the ice never thawed, and the distance between Arun and her ma kept growing. They now barely spoke to each other in months as Arun and Linda could sense her resentment towards them. The silence between them kept growing as Mira’s ego restrained her from calling up and enquiring. Each month, Arun sent Mira some dollars into her bank account, but Mira did not touch that money.

About a year later, one day, Arun text messaged, Mira to tell her that he was not well and had been admitted to a hospital. She called on Arun’s phone frantically, but it went unanswered. She kept calling repeatedly, but to no avail. However, she observed that Arun was available on Whatsapp but was not responding to her messages. Mira’s appetite left her, she stopped going to work. The only thing she did the whole day was to stare blankly at her phone screen.

Aparna, was worried to see her in such a state, and tried to bring some sanity back into the situation by forcing her to eat and by sleeping beside her at night. She kept consoling her and telling her that if any message came in, then a notification sound would inform her and that it was not necessary for her to keep staring at the screen.

She willed herself to not check her phone to see if he had replied. It had been about three days now. She hated that she was constantly checking his 'last seen at' status and yes, he had logged in just five minutes ago. Yet she couldn't stop herself. This sinking feeling to find absolutely no communication from him was becoming unbearable, almost torturous.

And then, just as she sat down in her chair, her phone vibrated. With her heart thudding in her ear, she unlocked her phone and stared at the screen. Finally! It was his message. But when she opened it and read it, she nearly stopped breathing. She didn't know if he was joking or not. What was this? He had written, “Ma, I am coming to you, next thursday”. She could not believe her eyes and her dry anxious eyes, welled up in tears. All her resentment vanished in a moment.

At the airport arrival lounge, as Mira and Aparna waited with bated breath, the arrival of Arun’s flight was announced. Passengers slowly started trickling in. Mira eagerly scanned each face, until she noticed Linda in the crowd, pulling a luggage trolley and a pram at the same time. She too was anxiously scanning faces and as Mira called out her name for the first time, she came and stood before her. Mira disconcertedly, kept looking behind Linda, but Arun was nowhere to be seen. Linda, picked up the baby, from the pram, and put him in Mira’s hands. Tears of intense, heart-wrenching sorrow and unabashed joy flowed at the same time from both their eyes. And that deluge washed away all the contrast and discrepancy between two loving mothers.