...cont. (to read the full story, please click here)
The Feast was as it should be –loud and noisy. The Uncle had invited, apart from their usual Aunts and Uncles, his in-laws who made up half the crowd. Nu Lun went straight to the makeshift kitchen in the barn, quietly greeting those who greeted her. She packed some food and was to leave when the Aunt came over and loudly insisted to join them in the table. Her protest and words of concern for the sick man were drowned in the confused clamour of the feast.
She hesitantly sat down to a plateful of ‘elder’s meat’ glancing around at the merry occupants. She felt unusually awkward, and with every mouthful she ate, her discomfort grew, forcing her to break into cold sweat. Something is happening, she murmured to herself as she tried to continue eating, but unable to contain herself anymore, she made up a lame excuse and left the table. She grabbed the packed food and rushed home without noticing anyone around.
Something is happening, she murmured to herself as she hastily walked home. Something similar had happened during the previous year’s festival. She was eating then too, when something pulled her to the gate. She went to the gate, uncertain what she was doing, and then she saw one of her son walking towards her. She thought out loud that he must be on his way to
She hoped something similar to happen and said a silent prayer. Before she realized, she was standing at the gate. It was bolted –the way she left it. She looked around; the air was filled with life –the sounds of crying babies and dogs, laughter, clanking of utensils, mothers calling their children, the smell of meat and of burned rice … But it was silent, and empty, not a single soul to be seen in the street.
She calmly unbolted the gate and continued to look around. Then she heard something -someone whining from inside the house. Suddenly Pa Lian popped into her head and she breaks into cold sweat again. She rushed to the door and quickly unlocked it. It was the dog. It jumped out, wagged his tail, sniffed her feet and rushed out with his nose in the air. She sighed.
…
All those years of toiling under rain and sun have taken its toils and Pa Lian was in his feet for not more than a month in the past two years. Their children were concerned about his health. His condition was always the first question they asked whenever Nu Lun went down to the plain to talk to them. Every time they sent money, they told her a certain amount was for his medication, but Pa Lian categorically stated that he don’t need a doctor, he had never needed it and don’t need it now. Nu Lun had given-up pushing him a year ago.
That was not the only issue on which the children lectured her on. They also asked them to move down to the plain where everything, including money transaction and communication would be easier. But Pa Lian had resisted this too. He made it clear that the village was where he lived and where he would be buried. Nu Lun knew that, and she too dreaded moving out of the village to start a new life in the Plain where she had to learn everything from basic. The children don’t understand that –that a grown tree hardly survived transplantation. So, every time they lectured her, she whined, for she knew whining at least is within her control.
…
She lingered in the doorway trying to calm her rushing blood. She looked inside and saw the solar panel still connected to the battery. She pulled out the plug, and plugged-in the black and red wire that powered the two light bulbs in the house. She quickly walked over to the kitchen with her eyes on the sick man lying in the bed near the hearth. The fire was dying, and PL seemed to be sleeping.
He is sleeping, she thought, but still continued to talk about the in-laws at the uncle’s house while she unpacked the food in a plate. She pulled the small table with the tray of food towards the bed. She sat in the corner of the bed and touched his head to see if the fever was still there. He was cold and stiff, and suddenly everything dawned on her. She was too late; she broke into tears and sobbed out loud.
…
The night of the funeral, Nu Lun sat through the night at the porch blankly staring at the dazzling stars. She thought about the day’s event; the crowd was big with people even from the neighbouring villages coming to pay their homage, and she told them to kill the two remaining pigs for the guests. It was decent; the funeral was decent, she told herself again and again, trying to keep away the thought that jabbed her like a knife for so many nights now.
She thought of the night when Pa Lian was delirious with fever, and talked about his wish to see his three grandchildren and children sitting around the dinning table with him at least once before he died. Those words she heard had haunted and changed Nu Lun forever. The thought of dying without ever seeing her children haunted her in dreams and dream-out. She never thought of the whole thing in that light, but only as the blessing of the good Lord. And now, she’s not too positive that her funeral would be any different from her husband’s. The thought made her shudder.
She had made her biggest sacrifice, she only hoped that her children don’t have to make the same sacrifice. This is her harvest. She’s content and she’s torn; she expects nothing and everything from her six children. Deep in her heart she said a silent prayer; praying that her funeral wouldn’t be any different from her husband’s.
No comments:
Post a Comment