4th April 1994
3rd April 1994, the room was as I remembered it. The red and blues were still there like they had always been there. Just like I had learned them at school. How one changed to another in my mind. How the world around me changed as I saw those colors. How the shades slowly changed from one to another as if they all were trying to run away from reality before they came again in front of me. A confusing merry go round of colors. The 5-year-old child peeked into the room over the door. Taking refuge behind the door, he peeked over it and saw the still furniture inside the room. The curtains had been drawn and the maroon shade of the color was falling on the room. Dark maroon. I walked inside the room and closed the door behind me. I did not want to disturb her. I wanted to surprise her and see the expression on her face when she finally saw me.
I had planned this all the way from Islamabad. It had been my plan to walk into the room and shock her by suddenly coming in. I silently walked in over to the bed which was the focal point of the room. The sheets were cleanly laid upon them. She always laid down the sheets like this and most of the time even folded the overleaf of the blanket over itself as if inviting others to lie down on the bed. That explained so much about her. About the fact that she was so welcoming. Her many relationships were an evidence of that. Disturbed and childish moments of her life she might term them now but I can only imagine how she would have held onto the memories of every one of them.
How she would have waited for every one of them and would have been that women who would let others trod over me. I knew some attribute would transcend into me but why did it have to be this? I did not want to complex myself with such questions and thoughts. I just wanted to appreciate this moment. Just like a sweet glass of red wine. Feel the flavor of every grape that had made one glass of wine. I would never imagine that the irony in that comparison was so strong. How I never saw her sip the collection that she had made in many trips to Europe. She would brag on and on about how she collected them and it was the main topic of discussion for her. She would take prestige on the labels that they carried and never took even a sip of them as if ridiculing their beauty.
The biggest sin is never to appreciate beauty when you come across it but she did the exact thing. She never appreciated the scenery that was flying beside her or even the fact that I was growing up. Every achievement I had went unknown and unappreciated. But I always justified this by saying that she might be too busy. Too busy for me. Even though I had to swallow the words, the emotions and the feelings I still hid them inside myself. The constant headaches she had. The way she would lock herself inside the room and sometimes even for days. I had come to terms with living with just my caretaker. But I never blamed her. How could I? She was my mother.
I walked over to the side of the bed and suddenly I was filled with a feeling of nostalgia. It reminded me of the days that I used to watch her sleep. How silently she lay on the bed. Not caring of the world. Lost in her world of dreams. A world that she loved and never wanted to be out of. I loved her this way. The tranquility within her seemed to be passing into me. I never realized how time passed as I sat on my knees supporting myself against the bed as if begging her for this peace of mind she gave me. And she gave me the equanimity. Then she would wake up slowly opening her eyes and looking over at me. Every time I saw her it filled me with a feeling of shock and delight at the same time. I used to stare at her breathless and she would do the same. As the noon sun would shine on, I would climb on the bed and we would play around with each other. I remembered that the curtains were closed even then.
I jumped onto the bed and started to analyze the room as if from my throne. The furniture in the room was sparse and the placement made it look large. The cabinets near the bed. The dresser in the distance facing away from the window. Everything seemed perfectly in place. I had left them like this and they were neatly put in their original places. It was time for me to do pull off my prank. I sneaked under the sheets and waited there for a while. Then I started to count in the way I remembered them. The sheet was filled with my whispers. 1,2,3,5,6,8. The waiting game became boring so I wandered off and started concentrating on the slight aroma that these sheets held of her. It seemed that as the sheets wanted a piece of her as well as if to remember her by.
This was not the first time that I was pulling off this prank on her but this time I had been away for a week and I wanted to surprise her by coming a day before I was supposed to. I wanted to surprise her. I played the little play that would go on right on. She would come from the bathroom drying her hair and then seeing a lump in the sheets would say “I wish Sajjad was here. I miss him very much” then she would hold onto to me from the outside and tickle me all over. After this tickling game she would slowly whisper to me. I love you. And she would get the same reply from me. I also love you. I will always love you. Childish words can be so deceitful. So foolish for you to dream of dragons, princesses and love. For you to say things like these.
I waited for her words for so long. But they never came. I got impatient and walked over to the bathroom. Still wanting to play the joke, I turned the knob and found out that it was open. It surprised me. But curiosity came over me and I rushed into the bathroom shouting “Surprise!!!”
What a cruel joke. I was so selfish. So inconsiderate. The next few events I remember so distinctly. Like her perfume that she used to put on. It turned out that she surprised me. She lay inside the bath tub. Maroon. She was so still and peaceful. Still Maroon. I was envious that the razor in her hand had been the one to carry her blood like that. Envious of the fact that I had not been there to see her. I did not want to go near the tub. I knew that it would disturb her. I did not want to break the expression on her face. Did not want to lose that. She was not smiling any more but the serene look somehow assured me. I sat near her leaning on the wall and supporting myself. The room filled with sobs and cries and I felt a warm tear bubble inside one of my eye.
It slowly made its way down my chin but surprisingly it was the only one. I still know the urge I had to take the blade and do the same thing but maybe this was her moment and I wanted her to enjoy it. I did not know how long I sat there before my caretaker finally came and took me. What was the word that she kept saying again and again to the paramedics? Cancer? I did not want to listen to anyone of them. The next day was her funeral. She lay inside her coffin so peacefully. Her presence was somehow still with me. I knew that soon she would open her eyes and I would be breathless like I always was. It was time to pay our last tributes. I went to her headstone and placed the card and flowers near it. I had made the card myself. It read:
“Happy Birthday Mom!!!”
I had planned this all the way from Islamabad. It had been my plan to walk into the room and shock her by suddenly coming in. I silently walked in over to the bed which was the focal point of the room. The sheets were cleanly laid upon them. She always laid down the sheets like this and most of the time even folded the overleaf of the blanket over itself as if inviting others to lie down on the bed. That explained so much about her. About the fact that she was so welcoming. Her many relationships were an evidence of that. Disturbed and childish moments of her life she might term them now but I can only imagine how she would have held onto the memories of every one of them.
How she would have waited for every one of them and would have been that women who would let others trod over me. I knew some attribute would transcend into me but why did it have to be this? I did not want to complex myself with such questions and thoughts. I just wanted to appreciate this moment. Just like a sweet glass of red wine. Feel the flavor of every grape that had made one glass of wine. I would never imagine that the irony in that comparison was so strong. How I never saw her sip the collection that she had made in many trips to Europe. She would brag on and on about how she collected them and it was the main topic of discussion for her. She would take prestige on the labels that they carried and never took even a sip of them as if ridiculing their beauty.
The biggest sin is never to appreciate beauty when you come across it but she did the exact thing. She never appreciated the scenery that was flying beside her or even the fact that I was growing up. Every achievement I had went unknown and unappreciated. But I always justified this by saying that she might be too busy. Too busy for me. Even though I had to swallow the words, the emotions and the feelings I still hid them inside myself. The constant headaches she had. The way she would lock herself inside the room and sometimes even for days. I had come to terms with living with just my caretaker. But I never blamed her. How could I? She was my mother.
I walked over to the side of the bed and suddenly I was filled with a feeling of nostalgia. It reminded me of the days that I used to watch her sleep. How silently she lay on the bed. Not caring of the world. Lost in her world of dreams. A world that she loved and never wanted to be out of. I loved her this way. The tranquility within her seemed to be passing into me. I never realized how time passed as I sat on my knees supporting myself against the bed as if begging her for this peace of mind she gave me. And she gave me the equanimity. Then she would wake up slowly opening her eyes and looking over at me. Every time I saw her it filled me with a feeling of shock and delight at the same time. I used to stare at her breathless and she would do the same. As the noon sun would shine on, I would climb on the bed and we would play around with each other. I remembered that the curtains were closed even then.
I jumped onto the bed and started to analyze the room as if from my throne. The furniture in the room was sparse and the placement made it look large. The cabinets near the bed. The dresser in the distance facing away from the window. Everything seemed perfectly in place. I had left them like this and they were neatly put in their original places. It was time for me to do pull off my prank. I sneaked under the sheets and waited there for a while. Then I started to count in the way I remembered them. The sheet was filled with my whispers. 1,2,3,5,6,8. The waiting game became boring so I wandered off and started concentrating on the slight aroma that these sheets held of her. It seemed that as the sheets wanted a piece of her as well as if to remember her by.
This was not the first time that I was pulling off this prank on her but this time I had been away for a week and I wanted to surprise her by coming a day before I was supposed to. I wanted to surprise her. I played the little play that would go on right on. She would come from the bathroom drying her hair and then seeing a lump in the sheets would say “I wish Sajjad was here. I miss him very much” then she would hold onto to me from the outside and tickle me all over. After this tickling game she would slowly whisper to me. I love you. And she would get the same reply from me. I also love you. I will always love you. Childish words can be so deceitful. So foolish for you to dream of dragons, princesses and love. For you to say things like these.
I waited for her words for so long. But they never came. I got impatient and walked over to the bathroom. Still wanting to play the joke, I turned the knob and found out that it was open. It surprised me. But curiosity came over me and I rushed into the bathroom shouting “Surprise!!!”
What a cruel joke. I was so selfish. So inconsiderate. The next few events I remember so distinctly. Like her perfume that she used to put on. It turned out that she surprised me. She lay inside the bath tub. Maroon. She was so still and peaceful. Still Maroon. I was envious that the razor in her hand had been the one to carry her blood like that. Envious of the fact that I had not been there to see her. I did not want to go near the tub. I knew that it would disturb her. I did not want to break the expression on her face. Did not want to lose that. She was not smiling any more but the serene look somehow assured me. I sat near her leaning on the wall and supporting myself. The room filled with sobs and cries and I felt a warm tear bubble inside one of my eye.
It slowly made its way down my chin but surprisingly it was the only one. I still know the urge I had to take the blade and do the same thing but maybe this was her moment and I wanted her to enjoy it. I did not know how long I sat there before my caretaker finally came and took me. What was the word that she kept saying again and again to the paramedics? Cancer? I did not want to listen to anyone of them. The next day was her funeral. She lay inside her coffin so peacefully. Her presence was somehow still with me. I knew that soon she would open her eyes and I would be breathless like I always was. It was time to pay our last tributes. I went to her headstone and placed the card and flowers near it. I had made the card myself. It read:
“Happy Birthday Mom!!!”
thought by Kreacher at 11:02 AM
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