Of Daughters and Mothers

 

“Who switched off the TV?”

The angry voice almost made Mili miss catching the falling teacup.

It was a proverbial dark and stormy night… well evening. When she walked in house, she beelined to kitchen to make a pot of tea.

“You were asleep ma!” Shouted back Mili while putting the kettle on.

“No I was not! “Ma replied angrily.

Outside cracked a big thunderbolt. The old house rattled, a cupboard fell open, a few tea bags spilled down.

“I suppose we are having Oolong then” Murmured Mili.

The house is really getting old and needs work done. But talking to a bunch of people and allowing them in her inner sanctum sanctorum was never Mili’s strength. Give her pen and papers she would write pages of conversation, having one of those in real life … not fun.

“I may have closed my eyes for a bit, but I was NOT sleeping”

“well, your eyes were indeed closed and your nose was making strange noises.” Smiled Mili

“You need use that amazing imagination you were born with and stop plagiarizing Sukumar Ray, when you make fun of your mother” Ma walked in the kitchen, simultaneously frowning and smiling, making a weird face “I am your mother, do not treat me like a forgetful toddler”

“You are my mother” Agreed Mili “you are also a bit of a forgetful toddler”

“hrrrump” grumbled ma “you make fun of me all the time. You and your father ..”

Ma lost track of what she was saying as she started looking around looking a little lost.

Milis parents spent 50 long years together. They had good times and bad. There was a lot of laughter involved, almost as many angry words. They were friends, enemies. They project partners and yet ferociously independent of each other.

Which is why Milli was shocked to see very soon after her father passed away, her mother began to lose herself too. A mised step here, a forgotten name there.

When doctors diagnosed age related dementia. Ma went to war against it

Learning 3 languages online, check.

Solving Suduku every day, check.

Going for walk and exercise. Check and check.

But time has two things in abundance, itself and cruelty.

It kept on chipping away bit by bit of her short-term memory, till she would keep repeating the same story not remembering telling it five minutes back.

First it would make her angry. She would throw her book to the wall, when she could not remember what she read two pages back.

But eventually Mili watched with a broken heart, her fiercely independent mother losing confidence in herself. Saying a little less and smiling a bit more in fear of repeating the same story, or saying something that would worry others. And that’s when her Quiz Show addiction grew. The rounds of this show contained Mythology, Mathematics, Physics, classic literature, nothing ma did not imprint in her childhood brain. And questions change so rapidly, her short-term memory can forget if it wants. Ma didn’t care.

“let me turn on the TV and get you your tea” Mili said walking in ma’s bedroom.

“When did you dye your hair white? And why did you cut it?”

“Ha?”

“you have such beautiful hair! Why do you insist on messing with it? This is the problem with your generation. No eye for natural beauty, always dye this, enhance that, contour those … whatever hell that means”

Some time back Mili realized that her ma sees the world through a veil, seeing some of it, and making up the rest from memory, assumptions and whatever feels most likely. But every once in a while the veil lifts a bit and Ma sees a clear picture.

“quite some time back ma, you remember” chided Mili mildly.

“Don’t take advantage of your poor mothers dementia Mili” Ma replied sternly “ I remember perfectly well, on Monday you had your full head of long dark hair. I remember clearly cause when you walked in, I was hiding …” Ma abruptly stops, looking around her bedroom confused.

“Did I give you your birthday gift? I was hiding it in my …” she looked at the side of her bed, where the glass bookshelf should have been.

“yes ma I got it. I cant believe you kept all my certificates and report cards from even nursery days, and all those photos, I loved the scrapbook ma. You must have spent hours on it”

“I wanted to make your 40^th special” Ma smiled “After all you are our Project”

Ma often called Mili her “project”, saying no other project in her long career made her work this hard or gave her this much satisfaction.

“your 40^th birthday” murmured ma “time does fly. Ha?”

“Yeah”

“How many years has it been ?” Ma asks in a matter of fact voice.

Mili looks up startled.

“you look much older than I remember. This stupid dementia”  Grumbled ma bit.

“It has been a minute” agreed mili. Ma scrutinized Mili for a second before bursting into loud, rhythmic laughter.

“oh my god! It so like me …” gasps ma between spills of giggles, sounding finally like the mother Mili grew up with.  Always analyzing everything around her world and finding the ridiculous. A couple of books got knocked over table but Ma could not stop herself.

“Just how like me to forget … to forget” hiccups mother, Mili smiled knowing what comes next

“to forget I died!! Hahahahha” ma kept laughing on, as the plastic clock hanging from wall dropped, not able to take the whole room shaking anymore. Mili could not stop herself and started laughing too.

Whole house rattled like its epicenter of an earthquake, books fell off the shelves, chairs toppled. Over the years Mili got rid of almost everything breakable from the house. Her Ma always did love laughing loudly and Mili loved her for it. But cleaning up broken glass after each time, not so much.

Once finally ma had her fill of the laughter of the situation ma stops. Ma explained to mili once, being stuck around the house not being able to move on, just because she forgets she died, is “undoubtedly the most ridiculous thing ma has ever heard her whole life …well and beyond”. She finds joy in this situation every time she remembers.

“Did you finish that Novel you were writing Mili”

“yes Ma” she finished that one, and some others after that.

“you always had a knack of telling stories, and such a lovely imagination” proudly proclaims ma

“I will get the tea” Milli gets up. Remembering first time she “met” Ma after she passed away. Mili could not visit Ma’s house for a long time, regret and sadness choking her up, leaving her paralyzed every time she planned. But it was almost a year, and it was time. She HAD to go, sort things out.

She was cleaning up drawing room when the TV kept switching on in Ma’s bedroom. After she turned it off the third time, and was inspecting the remote to see why its malfunctioning, a bored voice spoke up behind her “Would you please stop doing that? I am trying to watch my quiz show”

Mili spun around so quickly that she tripped and fell on her behind. A pale shadow of Ma was sitting there on her easy chair.

“that’s Poseidon the sea god you idiot! Prometheus is the one who stole fire” Shouted Ma’s ghost at the TV.

Mili did not know how long she was sitting there, before Ma’s ghost took notice.

“Whachu you doing on the floor Mili? Why are you gaping like an Baboon? Come on get up. Are you feeling unwell? Want some tea?”

“yes … I … I will make it” Mili Ran out of the room.

That was decades ago, Mili thought as she walked back in the same room with two steaming cup of tea. Ma does love her tea next to her, even if she cant drink it anymore.

“Why do you look so sad my love” Ma commented inhaling the lovely aroma of the tea.

“I miss you Ma” Mili replied smiling. The first time she was able to confess this to ma, she dissolved into sobs. Ma tried to calm her down and got very agitated when she could not quite hug her tight like she used to. That’s the day the glass bookshelf burst and Mili found the birthday gift Ma was making for her.

That day too was long back in past, time flows in an endless flow.

Ma smiled back at Mili “What for! You Silly Girl” Mili laughed being called a girl at the age of seventy.

“I am right here. And …” Ma pondered “I think I am going to be around as long as you remember”.

Mother and daughter settled down with their tea watching the show now.

Ma continued thinking out aloud “you always had such a vivid imagination; I am so proud of you.”