The evening has been the most peaceful time of the day for me since the death of Sulagna. The homesick birds, the cool breeze, the floating clouds, and the setting sun, they all seem to get together to take me a step closer, to her, to her memories. It’s been a year since she left me all alone in this horrible world. There has not been a single day that I’ve not thought of ending this life and joining her in her next journey. But her words, those last words have been holding me back.
Each evening I take my small electronic harmonium with me to the roof and start humming to her favorite tunes while nature takes me to her with the beautiful combination of its elements. I could see her face lit up with the colorful rays of the setting sun and then vanish into the horizon as the night sky takes over the light. Each day her expressions change, letting me know about her presence in my life again and over. I’ve never been good at these musical instruments, but the way she used to smile each time I played them, had made me get used to it.
I’ve never liked rainy days. It makes me feel the absence of her. It makes it hard to forget all those painful memories. It makes it obvious that neither I can see her face in the setting sun, nor I can sing to her those beautiful songs. But today, I have to sing to her by any means. Because today is the day she left me, a year ago.
I have not been exactly a devotee of the Gods in my whole life whereas she was the exact opposite of me. She dedicated her whole life to the unseen God. Even though I don’t believe in them, her beliefs, her faith had made me respect her more. When we had our first child on Janmashtami, she said that God had taken the earthly body and answered her prayers with this baby boy, Krishna. She named him and I had to agree with her. How could I not? But I never knew that God had chosen to come as my son to take her away from me.
It was still raining but at a slower pace. As I opened the window the cool breeze started gushing into the room with noises from all over the neighborhood. Yes, they have been just noises to me. The kirtan, the holy chants, the songs praising the lord, everything. I never imagined myself pleading before the Lord. But today I felt like asking for their mercy. The mercy of sunshine, so that I can see her face in the setting sun. The preparation for the Janmashtami Utsav in the neighborhood was going on in full swing. There were garlands hanging at everyone’s doorstep except mine. I’ve never understood the connection between the human and the Unseen. Maybe the mystery is what inspires people and attracts them towards an unknown bond of faith and dedication. There was a time when I was actually getting my hopes up about being able to share her beliefs & faith. But it hardly lasted for a few years.
We were busy preparing delicate food items. Her happiness knew no bound as Krishna was returning home after such a long time. We used to talk over video calls but a mother’s heart can never be satisfied with it. He arrived late at night, on the eve of Janmashtami last year. But what came with him was beyond our imagination.
Sulagna woke up early the next morning for it was her favorite day of the year, the birthday of both her son & the Lord. After the morning aarti, when she tried to put tilak on Krishna’s head, he refused. Even though it seemed a little odd, we didn’t really focus on that. For dinner, Sulagna had prepared Krishna’s favorite, Paratha with Aloo Dum & Rasagulla. As Krishna & I were eating at the dining table Sulagna stood by her son’s side making sure his plate was not empty. Even after keeping a full day fast, she was really energetic. I guess we can never understand the power of a mother’s love completely. While talking randomly about his life in the metro, Krishna announced something that we were not prepared for.
He had decided to move back completely to the metro as his fiance thought of his hometown as to be too shabby for her to live in. As an addition to that, she had also refused to live with us, her to-be in-laws as she thought of herself to be much independent to live on her own. What was more shocking that Krishna had agreed happily to all the conditions, practically leaving us behind in his life. The news was too much for Sulagna to handle as she fell down on the floor, senseless. I tried everything possible to bring her back to sense. Finally, we took her to the hospital just to hear the worst news of my life.
She was no more. Her heart was not strong enough to take in the words of her son. Maybe the heart gave up because a mother’s love had been betrayed. I was devastated yet jealous. How could she only think of her son? How could she forget about me and leave me all alone in this horrible world? Did I mean nothing to her? How could she do this to me? My heart kept wailing inside when I completed her last rites. I did not stop Krishna from doing his part of rituals but I swore never to speak to him again.
I was never comfortable with Krishna’s life partner choice from the beginning. But she had convinced me to accept his decision. “After all, he is our son”, she said to me. How could an unconditional love be repaid with this ruthlessness?
The clouds in the western sky were clearing up as rays of the setting sun started to come through my window. The rain had stopped now allowing the birds to get back to their nests. The water vapors in the air had caught some of the rays dividing them into a beautiful rainbow. When I looked through the window, my heart was filled again, with warmth, with love. The eyes were smiling at me. I picked up my harmonium and asked her about what she wanted to listen to. A song played in my heart taking me back to the days when Sulagna & the little Krishna used to prepare the Puja room for Janmashtami. She used to always sing the only song while getting a little help from her son. I couldn’t control my tears as I started to press on the keys to the tunes of that song and her voice started to ring in my ears.
"Yashomati maiya se bole nandlala Radha kyon gori, main kyon kaala…”
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