Non-erotic The Scarface I Hated by Trambak

[Ramesh_Rocky]

She said easily, "So, my bahu (son's wife) has come to meet me, that too alone, not bad. Usually, people run away from this place. I am surprised."

"How did you recognize me?", I enquired.

"I have my ways and means." She said with mysterious finality and added, "I have lunch early, then I have to go to work. You must be hungry."

I did not say anything. I was here for a purpose and I was not going to be embroiled in mere civilities.

So, I said, "I have come to take you with me."

She looked up sharply, "Where to?"

I said, "Your home. To your son."

She smiled, "Your home, you mean. As far as I am concerned, this is my home and I have no son."

I immediately replied, "But you said I was your bahu. How could that be if Imran is not your son?"

Her eyes grew wide, "Ah! Smart girl caught me on the wrong foot. Imran is my biological son and that's about all. He has long ceased to be anyone for me."

I looked at her. Age had not defeated her but the harshness of life had taken its toll. She looked mildly disinterested with life. Maybe that was only a shield against her inner pains. Life had been too harsh to her. Anyone else would have bent their knees and accepted the inevitable. Each word, each sentence she uttered was a fight against her inner fears that had dogged her for years. Taking away her best time. I could argue with her, be smart with her but the solution was not in being smart but human. I had seen the human face in her son. His mother was upset with her son whom she loved dearly. I required to breach that barrier of hurt pride that separated her from her son.

I went and sat with her and embraced her. She was uncomfortable and fidgeted. I did not let her go and held her tight and said, "You know, I never had a mother or father. I don't know what relationships are. I don't know what a husband means; what a child means.

But in Imran, I see a son who misses his mother. Each day, he flogs himself, to seek your forgiveness, for doing things he should not have done. He repents every day. For him, you are his final shelter. Don't take it away from him."

She was not fidgeting anymore. She held my face with both her hands, for a long time, and said, "Now Imran has you and I don't worry about him anymore. I will be redundant in your home, a burden. I will only create problems for you. I am good here. My best wishes are with you."

I said with sadness, "Maa, Am I no one to you? Because I am a bahu, an outsider, and therefore without rights." For a long time, no one had called her 'mother'. She kept on looking at me.

At last, she said, "Of course, of course, I am your mother but today you are my guest. Today, we will talk, mother to daughter and tomorrow you decide what I should do." There were no assurances but there was a window of hope. I accepted it.

Lunch was frugal but I loved it. The care Kiana took made it worthwhile coming all the way. I suddenly remembered the packed lunch given to me by Sumitra. Kiana enjoyed the change of taste. The soft heart encased in an apparently tough exterior was in evidence again. We finished eating in silence. I understood the turmoil she was feeling due to my sudden appearance.

So, I broke the silence, "Maa, are you a teacher?"

She replied indifferently, "I had been one and that has continued here. Sometimes, I sit with the boys and girls and try to teach them something. There is no priority for education here. Everyone is looking for earning something to get two square meals. It's a daily struggle here to get food. Teaching and teachers are a source of ridicule." I sensed some sadness in her voice.

"But I do something that interests me. I will take you to a place if you are not too tired." She said.

It was around noon and we walked out of the house. There was no provision for locking it. She simply closed the door and put up a bamboo bar. As we walked through the village, I could not but help look at the naked poverty that was in evidence everywhere. The village showed signs of neglect. The ponds were silted with green algae. Each house was on the verge of being engulfed by shrubs and dense undergrowth. The hum of the mosquitoes was deafening. Suddenly, the village did not appear that romantic as portrayed in books. The place looked like a jungle and I looked around apprehensively.