The sound of the rain increased. It lashed against the windows now, like a whip hurtling through the air. I watched as the lone white cloth I’d forgotten to pull off the line flapped about violently, almost accusatory, at being left alone.
Well, we all gotta fend for ourselves, buddy, I thought sourly. You are synthetic. Let it all roll off you.
I turned away from the window, well aware that I was acting crazily but not caring in the least.
This was karma. It was finally happening, and I had failed miserably at gracefully accepting my fate.
Nuan had been just eight years old when he died. And though I’d been prepared for this day for a long time, let’s face it – just how prepared can you be to lose your child?
Nothing in the world readies you for it.
Having been brought up in a traditional Indian family, I was a big believer in karma. I firmly held that our actions were responsible for creating our karmic cycle. What we gave out came back to us – this was karma. And I lived my life by it.
My husband, on the other hand, held no such notions. More than once, this had become the topic of frustrated arguments.
“Are you kidding?!” he’d lashed out one evening when he’d come home early from the hospital. I’d tried to hastily shut the laptop but it was too late.
The tab was prominently open, blaring out the article, “Types of Karma and the Tragedy of Life”.
I looked up at him defiantly, saying nothing.
He glared at me for a moment before sitting down and reaching for my hand – reluctantly, it seemed. “Honey,” he said and I knew he was trying very hard for a patient tone, “You can’t allow yourself to keep going down this road. It’s not healthy. Nuan needs you with him, not here reading like a crazy person.”
I clamped my mouth shut and he knew instantly he’d gone too far. “I mean,” he said, growing agitated, “What is karma… that is… is God really… we are…that is to say…” He fumbled around for a few more seconds before giving up and dropping my hand.
I stayed silent. We sat that way for a while, the only sound the whirring of the laptop. I hadn’t been able to shut it down.
I knew we were reaching a point of no return. It had been like this for months, ever since the day we found out that Nuan was ill. If I was being honest, it had begun before that. We may have even been able to work it out, who knows, but then it became all about Nuan and our entire lives began to revolve around hospital visits and reports and medical equipment and home schooling because I was determined that even if Nuan couldn’t go to school anymore, he should still keep his mind engaged until the time he couldn’t. The only things Nuan learnt were English and Art because that’s all he enjoyed – and that was enough. All that mattered was that he was happy.
Talking about Nuan, thinking about Nuan, worrying about Nuan. Nuan, Nuan, Nuan.
Of course, the worry doesn’t exist anymore now that he’s gone.
And neither does my relationship.
When Nuan died, he took our relationship with him – almost as if he couldn’t bear to be alone in death and thought the love his father and I once shared would keep him good company.
I hope it is. Because I would sacrifice our love a thousand times over if it meant that Nuan was able to depart his body, smiling and at peace.
That night, with the laptop still emitting heat on my lap, I saw the last vestiges of my relationship crumble.
“You know, Aisha,” he said quietly, meeting my eye. “I’ll just say it and forgive me. What does karma mean when every minute, Nuan is slipping away from us?
“I’ll tell you what it means to me – nothing. I really don’t care if he is ill because of something that happened in a past life or because he needs to work something out, or whatever. I don’t care. I don’t.”
I opened my mouth to speak but he held up a hand. “I want to finish. You spend your days looking for answers because you hate feeling out of control. And you’ve chosen to direct your attention to something that you believe in – karma. But you know what? You’ve left me alone to deal with all of this.”
I stared at him, shocked. Had I not been there with him through all the doctor appointments and painful surgeries?
He shook his head, reading my mind. “That’s not what I mean. I mean emotionally. I’ve been dealing with the tragedy of losing my only child while you have taken shelter in some belief that only you understand. You shut me out, Aisha.
“And hear this too,” he added bitterly as he got up, “one day, you will feel this ache that I feel – this sense of loneliness that’s there even when you’re sitting right here, in front of me. I’ve lost you and you’ve lost me, and I don’t think we can ever find our way back to each other.”
The words echoed through the living room, the same room I sat in now, staring blankly at the rain as it played tug-of-war with Nuan’s jersey – the one he’d worn the last match before he fell ill.
There was nobody left for me anymore – he’d left, the day after Nuan’s funeral.
It had been seven months now and every day, I felt the ache he’d promised I’d feel. And every day, I smiled grimly at least once when I thought of how perfectly he’d set me up for my own karma – what I had given, I was getting back. to know more read karma quotes here.
Nothing would ever be the same again.
Comments
Post a Comment