She is a fighter

Some stories live with you and die with you. They may be real or fictious. But does it matter?

- by who knows!

Part 1 - An Inland letter

Not that I wanted not to hear it. But elders did not want kids nearby. So, we had to sit out on the front porch while they spoke inside. It appeared something very serious. Something grave. I didn't know what it was. But just because of the whole atmosphere around it, heart started beating faster.

Someone told me later that she came home with an inland letter. Running. Not that she couldn't read. Letter was from my uncle, father's brother. Even today I don't know exactly what was written in it. Whatever it was, it couldn't change what had already happened.

I was in 6th standard. So was my cousin. That meant we were not allowed to join the search party. They searched for 2 3 days. They spoke in low voices about where else to search, what could have happened to the body, is there any hope left at all.

After 6 7 days, it was confirmed there was no hope. I could only get a glance at my uncle when we were taken to cremation ground. He was wrapped in a white cloth. I still remember the pungent smell in the atmosphere that day. It's spine chilling.

They told her she has to be strong. Strong for her son’s sake. She did.

She was not well read. She didn't have a job. Uncle had left a farmland. Not much. It could feed 2 people. But only after a lot of work and a few years before it could feed them. There was no life left in the village for her. She came to Bangalore. Became a maid for living. Sent her son, my cousin, to school, to college. He grew up to be a fine gentleman. Worked in a bank in a small town.

She was a fighter.

We both, cousins, looked almost alike that everyone thought we were twins. No one believed it to be otherwise. We went to same school (no, we did not eat in same plate). But that's where the similarities stopped. While I was reserved, he was introvert. He spoke only when spoken to. Much so after the incident. While I liked outdoor games, he liked chess and carrom. While I was a fast bowler, he defended like Dravid. We were thick till 7th standard. Then our paths separated. We lost touch. There were no mobile phones then, you see.

Few years ago, he came home. To Bangalore. Said he had been on a tour with his friends. We exchanged phone numbers. He said he had bought piece of land and was constructing a house. Called his mother to come and live with him. How long should she work more? We were all happy.

One day his mother called and said he was going to be engaged. She was excited. Which mother would not be? Is it not what she worked all these years for?

Everyone was happy.

Part 2 - A WhatsApp Call

Fast forward a few years. I was living abroad. One evening, I was on my way back home when I got a call from my aunt who lives in London. I don't usually get calls from her at that time. She asked where I was. Told me to call her back when I reached home. This was unusual.

Till I reached home, I kept imagining all the worse things that could happen. Did something happen to my father? Mother? Grandmother may be? Or maybe she just wanted to have a video call?

When I reached home and called her back, she told me that my father did not have the courage to tell me the matter. He sought her help. By the time she finished telling me what she had to, I could barely hold the phone. For a week, I couldn't sleep. It must have been the most fearful week so far. Not because something was going to happen to me. No. I was fine. Healthy. My father, mother, grandmother, they were all just fine.

Cousin was not. It pains me till today that he followed his father’s footsteps and not his mother’s.

When his mother asked “you said back then that I should find courage for my son’s sake. Now for whose sake?”, no one could answer. How could they? Could you?

But remember? She is a fighter…