Today she is home and wants to sit down with ma and look at family photos taken over the years. Ma is reluctant. And for a reason. There are too many memories she wants to revive. But Ma has always put away the unpleasant in that dark corner of her heart where she can conveniently ignore it and pretend it doesn’t exist.
But how can a mother explain that to a 9-yr-old? So they sit down at the family computer and begin from the beginning. One cursory look and she complains: “How come you haven’t put captions? You are sure you will remember all the occasions when they were taken?” “Yes, beta,” reassures Ma.
There are pictures of forts taken at her parents’ honeymoon. One or two photos also have her Ma somewhere in the background so she isn’t too keen on looking and they move on.
Then there is one of a malnourished, zombie-eyed infant. Ma looks away. It is of her first-born, now 10 and a fairly active boy. Back then, three pediatricians had failed to diagnose that her milk wasn’t enough to fill his tummy. Ten years on, Ma still lives with that guilt, more so, as her husband holds it against her. He feels she wasn’t bonding with her child to convince Mother Nature enough and sort out her malfunctioning mammary glands.
The next one has her and her elder brother, chubby by then, having his mundan (tonsuring ceremony). “He was so cute!” she goes. “Yeah!” Ma says to herself,” but it wasn’t enough for your dad to not shake that 11-month old boy and slap him too.”
Moving on, she points at a picture showing her granddad cutting a cake while Ma holds her brother. She, an infant then, sits on the table, right next to the cake, watching as only kids can. “When was this taken?” she asks. “Your baba’s (grandfather’s) birthday,” Ma says, adding inwardly “also when your dad yelled at me right before clicking this shot. I won’t let you look closely but if you did, you would see me all teary-eyed.”
There are few happy photos too; of the times when Ma and Papa weren’t in the same town. But those aren’t many. Another one, from another town, is from a Holi when she and her brother were 2 and 3 respectively. Ma is sitting down and the two of them are laughing hysterically while pouring pink colour on her. “We had such fun even as babies!” she exclaims. “Of course!” adds Ma, adding to herself: “That was before your Pa reprimanded me for having too much fun and not keeping an eye on the clock.”
There is one of a party, with 3-4 couples in the frame. “You look so good in a saree, why don’t you wear it more often?” she grumbles. Ma smiles and says in her head: “Your dad had reminded me that day how I looked so much fatter in a saree. That’s why.”
The last one from that city has the four of them at a pizza place. It was their dad’s last birthday in town. They are all smiles and she says: “We left the town soon after, didn’t we?” Ma adds: “Yes (and good we did because a week after this celebration, your dad had grabbed me by my throat and pressed me against the wall as he yelled expletives in my face. I should’ve seen that as a sign and moved out too).”
There’s no picture for about a year after that as dad went abroad and then refused to have them join him. Then there is one from December that year as he came home, carrying gifts. “That’s also when your grandparents had to literally force your dad to take us along,” thought Ma.
A photo shows the four of them on their first weekend out in the foreign land. They are at Wimpy’s. “We are all smiling; I wonder what we were talking about,” she says. Ma thinks: “I don’t remember either but I did hear from your dad if that was the only t-shirt I could think of wearing.”
There are also lots of photos from their first visit to the local zoo. ”That’s our first-ever visit to the zoo, right?” she asks Ma who smiles and thinks:”Yes, and also the time I heard your dad complaining to his mum on the phone that he was forced to take us out despite being tired.”
There are sundry birthday pictures of the two kids too. She doesn’t need any explaining for these ones but Ma looks, and for the first time, notices how dad isn’t there in most of them. Yet, he is a good dad while she has either been a bad mom or one who tries too hard.
Case in point: Lots of pictures from visit to a game park when grandparents visited. “We can have fun anywhere so long as you, dada (elder brother) and I are together,” she says. Ma tells herself:”And that’s the latest charge against me: That I bond too much with my kids.”
“It’s almost dinner time now. Let’s get going (or your dad will give me an earful for being late),” says Ma, getting up and walking away as she mentally puts away all the memories --that her daughter has inadvertently raked up – where they belong, in that dark corner.
No comments:
Post a Comment