The Innocent

They came out to join her as she waited, hands on her tense shoulders. It’d been ages since she’d been allowed to meet him. Today they’d finally given in to her pleas.

When she saw him coming, she ran to him sobbing, “Dada!!! I miss you so much!” He swallowed hard, holding her tight in arms that were ordinary except for a band of lighter coloured skin on one finger. There once was a ring there; matching one the woman at the door used to wear.

Looking upwards, bitterly he asked, “Why, God, are the innocent always the hardest hit?”

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Written for Indispire – 68 hosted on Indiblogger.in – “Do you have questions for God?” #QuestionsForGod

A is for…

…April Arrivals!

Apparently golden-yellow sunshine has given way to pale moon beams and then returned to reclaim its territory over and over for more than a month now. When I was told, I blinked in disbelief. I moved out of my room and looked at all the calendars in the house suspiciously, to see if I could spot any sign of mischief, but all of them; from the one that hangs in my parents room to the one on my phone; show me that today is the 8th of May! It seems then that what I have been told is true – I have been entrusted with the care of the most precious parcel for five weeks already! I can scarcely believe that she has been here so long. True she was scheduled to arrive in April; but she made her grand entrance a lot earlier than she was supposed to. A friend of mine joked and said, “She definitely knows her mother is a CA…why else would she arrive on the first day of the new financial year!?!”

When I called my doctor to discuss what I thought was a silly problem and she told me that the baby had to come the next morning – days before she was due – I did what any reasonable person would have done in my shoes…I panicked. Would the baby have grown enough to be able to survive outside its cocoon? Why so much before the due date? Was I becoming an inhospitable host? Why wasn’t the husband there by my side?! Could I handle a baby? Would I know what to do? What if we didn’t bond well?  And worst of all…was I even ready to be a mother?!? To say I was freaking out would probably be an understatement…

wpid-img_20150508_092554.jpgNow a little later I know, although it is normal, I didn’t have to turn into a great big mess because lying on that operating table, strapped up to strange contraptions, my mouth covered with an oxygen mask, I can’t recall a time I was happier than those few seconds when they let me gaze upon her face before whisking her away. I realized that my biggest fear about being ready was probably the most foolish of all. Of course I was ready! I’d been ready to be her mother since the day I saw her as nothing more than a little speck on the ultrasound.

April…you have brought with you many nights of disturbed sleep and a painful recovery post surgery, but, you could not have been a more beautiful and blessed month!

Lucky?

Friendship. There must be thousands of posts written about the subject and you’ve probably read a fair share of them. I know I have. I’ve even written a few posts myself. Why do I return to it then? Because when prompted to describe a time when someone or something gave me the strength to get up and move on, I can only think of events involving my friends. Sure, my family has always stood by me and offered me the best advice whenever I’ve needed it and I love them for it. But, I moved away from home when I began college. I was all of eighteen and when I didn’t have my Mama’s shoulder to cry on because she was physically in another city, it’s only because I had friends who filled that void that I survived.

I remember having contracted jaundice during the semester exams one year and I was not exactly willing to go to the hospital for a blood test (I can be a very fussy patient…preferring to just sleep till I feel better). My closest friend (to whom I have already dedicated a post which you can read here) looked after me the best she could, even feeding me when I agreed to eat while I was at the paying guest accommodation. When things became so bad and I had no choice but to be admitted, before my father could reach the hospital, she was there, helping me with my clothes and trying to make me comfortable. She showed up the next morning, before the final exam to check on me while I lay on my hospital bed hooked up to an I.V. drip! She even washed the dirty clothes I had left back in our room since I couldn’t go back there myself.

I remember going through a very rough patch personally a little later. It was shortly before I took the CA final exams for the first time and we were supposed to be attending classes regularly. Since I was crying all night and waking up with eyes so swollen I could barely see, I ended up missing a lot of those sessions. But, not only did she keep me abreast of what was happening, she actually kept me together. She would let me cry endlessly to her and on more than one occasion, I’ve seen her crying with me too.

I remember while I failed those dreaded CA final exams (which I had a feeling would happen since I had a lot on my mind), she had passed. She didn’t make me feel like the total loser I believed I was and instead just blamed it on bad luck. I know it must have been really hard, because she must have been dying to celebrate, but she waited till she thought I could handle it before she let the fireworks fly. When I flunked the second time (I am not that dull…but if you have written the CA final exams, you would know that sometimes it is just the most difficult thing to clear!), another one of my friends cried when he saw how distressed I was that I failed again.

9f441eaa571dd536e61a019382978708She is my family. But, I have other friends too…like the boy who cried with me. Those who have taken me out to have dinner with them everyday just to make sure that I always slept with a full tummy when I was alone. Friends who have come home to check on me during the office lunch break when I have fallen sick. I even have some friends who include me in their daily prayers at night!

I don’t generally consider myself lucky. I mean, I can’t remember the last time I won a prize when playing even something as silly as tambola at a party and even my palms are so lined that anyone with the slightest knowledge of palmistry has told me that I am going to have a very complicated life…so, no. I am probably not lucky in the conventional sense. But, I have the fortune of a small but simply wonderful group of friends and that probably makes me one of the luckiest people on the planet. It’s a good life. What more could I ask for?

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Written in response to in this together #together for housing.com. Their ideas seem to have tugged at my heartstrings and am sure if you check out their website, they will tug on yours too.

Friendship

She’s misunderstood,
Surrounded by those of blood –
With kin, yet alone.
Only accepted with friends;
Friends – they’re family she chose.

******

To the own family I chose…you’re small but I love you guys and wouldn’t have it any other way! 🙂

Debbie at The Doglady’s Den is hosting the Write Tribe Blog Carnival this week and the theme is friendship. Please check out the other posts and then perhaps post your own here.

Write Tribe