The shoelaces were tangled in a dirty knot. She spent a good amount of time bending over trying to untie them. With her fingers stiff and cold, this wasn’t an easy task. After struggling for a bit, she gave up and tied up the knotted lace. Zipping up the jacket right till her chin, the hoodie on, she stepped outside into the morning chill. The cold hit her face. And warmed her soul.
Nairobi early mornings never cease to amaze her. The greens, the flowers, the sky meet up to greet her, each in her wonderful quiet way. There’s always a certain smell in the air. Of freshness. Of a wonderful solitude, deep in its presence, light in its feel on her body. This solitude calms her senses, relaxes her nerves, yet gives her a tingling sensation. The morning lends her a quiet with a tingling of excitement, a strange combination!
She takes her first steps. Before long, as always, she finds her pace. As she reaches the first bend on the leafy Shanzu Road and waits for the car behind to pass by before she turns left, she is too absorbed in her own world to notice the two people approaching her from behind. And the car creeping up slowly. Still lost in herself, she finds all too suddenly a gag over her mouth and a blind on her eyes. In a daze, she is being dragged into the car. And the world turns a peaceful black.
Most mornings, after he wakes up and makes his morning cup of tea, she is still at walk or perhaps just back. An empty kitchen and drawing room at that time of the morning isn’t unusual. An hour later, he comes down, ready for office. His lunch back packed and kept in the kitchen, he notices her absence as he picks up the bag and heads to the car. On some days, she comes a bit late when she chooses to take a longer route, possibly step by the grocery store. Surely this was the case today too.
He doesn’t call her or even text her throughout the day, unless there’s a need. Today was no exception. And there was no need. The day went by like any other.
When he leaves for school early morning, his mother is dressed, ready for her walk. He knows that she leaves the house after the car has left the house to drop him to school. The last he saw her that day was his mom walking him to the car, waving him a bye.
They were getting impatient. And concerned. They know her routine the best. Mamma doesn’t take that long to come home from her walk. They waited. And waited. Baba left for office, they ran to him to ask. He didn’t read the question in their eyes.
He was a bit surprised when Mamma wasn’t home to open the door and ask him how his day had been at school. She never told him she would be stepping out at this time. She usually keeps him informed.
They were still wondering where Mamma was. They had a restless day. Couldn’t eat well, couldn’t sleep. Didn’t want to even chase the unseen and the unheard. Their ears in full attention throughout the day, they kept giving each other that silent look.
He comes home close to 7pm. By now, the boy is worried sick. He rushes to open the door and informs him of Mamma not being home. He tried not to think too hard. The remote possibilities were too scary. They decide to wait.
Evening crawled upon their quiet neighbourhood. The faint nagging worry now gripped their hearts. The calls began. To friends and acquaintances. To faraway India, in case she had mentioned in the passing her plan for the day. They waited for another hour. The inevitable decision to inform the local police was taken.
Events occur each day. And then one fine morning, the most mundane of them make headlines. And an ever-busy person, her day-long duties and emotions hidden behind furniture and their shadows, suddenly comes under spotlight. A little attention which she often craved for, out of the blue, spreads everywhere. Only she seems absent from the humdrum.
At night they sleep curled up on her legs, like natural extensions of her limbs. This night though, was for waiting. One with her head slightly hanging from the bed, eyes giving the door frequent looks, the other curled up next to her, her white head resting on her sister’s blond back. They watched, ears picked at the slightest sound, expectations looming large when a car engine sounds around their house. No useless barks this night. The right sound was yet to arrive.
Exhaustion overcame the boy like a huge wave. Mamma’s face was the image he carried into his sleep. Sleep was bliss tonight.
As the night darkened and the world of quiet descended on Shanzu Road, Cookie turned on her back, tail wagging and turning for her routine kisses and belly rubs. Chiki, as always, up on her four, couldn’t contain her wag and her licks. Mamma can never leave. Her smell, her touch are their blankets. They felt her.
Upstairs in his room, under the blanket of sleep, the boy turned. Eyes still closed and the world in a deep veil of sleep, he felt his Mamma’s hand over his forehead, her breath on his face as she kissed his eyes, his forehead, his cheeks. Again his eyes, his forehead, his cheeks. Mamma curled up under his blanket. He went deeper in his sleep, a smile on his lips.
Love lived where it should. No longer shadowed by the furniture and their shadows.
One Response
This evocative story beautifully captures the unsettling transition from serene routine to sudden dread.. . . the sensory details and shifting perspectives create a poignant narrative of love and loss.. .khub bhalo laglo. .you are gifted ❤️