The small window high up on the wall of her room gave her a glimpse of the clear blue sky, unending in its expanse, beginning nowhere, ending nowhere. She looked. The leaves of the gulmohar shimmered with her bouquet of yellow, bursting onto the backdrop of that perfect blue and glistening green, making the spring morning perfect. Today she could count six parrots sitting on its branches. Impatient little beings, they hardly ever sit in a place for more than a few seconds. Some days, there would be twenty or more of these lovely green birds, merging so beautifully amidst the leaves, lending the space specs of bright reds of their pretty beaks in a vast nest of green. Like body and soul merged into one, the parrots were like a part of the gulmohar, lending it life.
Freedom. A piece of rock lodged somewhere in her heart pulled at her heart string with sudden force; she gasped for breath. The moment passed. It was time for her friend’s visit. She waited. Before long and true to time, the little sparrow hopped onto her window and perched itself on its narrow ledge. She stood and took from the shelf her handkerchief, neatly folded around bread crumbs and some tidbits saved from her last meal. She tiptoed, stretched her arms and placed this meager meal on the window and sat back on the floor to watch. How this cute little sparrow trusts her! How each morning it comes to her with the surety and confidence of food. Reminds her of a child reaching out to his mother with the same assurance. A sharp pain from her heart hits her with an almost physical force. She forces herself not to think. She concentrates on the sparrow, on the open blue sky. And lets her mind wander…
As she dozes off in the afternoon heat, still on the floor, she dreams. A woman and a child playing in the open field…the little boy, with a sparkle in his eyes laughing in glee and making the woman chase him. He flies like a bird with arms outstretched on either side and screams “Come, catch me if you can. I am a bird”. The woman tires soon. Still laughing she sits on the edge of a rock to catch her breath. The boy comes running back to her. “Are you all right Mamma?”. She sees concern in the eyes of her little three-year old. She pulls him into her arms and says “I am fine my dear”. And taking the boy by complete surprise, she suddenly starts tickling him. He breaks into an uncontrolled squeal. She loses her balance and together, mother and son roll on the grass, laughing, trying to disengage one from the other. A little sparrow perched on the rock watches them. She hurts her knee in this struggle and a sharp pain jerks her senses. She wakes up. The little sparrow is still perched on her window.
She opens her eyes to the reality of her room. For short periods of time when she is in control of herself, she realizes who she is. For the rest of the time, she lives in a semi real world, with the borders between dream and reality merged. She drifts from one world to the next with as much finesse as the ease with which an author spins a story, seamless of time and abruptness. She flits in and out of this nebulous theatre called life, those sparking eyes and that squeal of laughter a truth frequented often as much in her dreams as in her wakefulness.
The door opens and her doctor with a nurse walks in. These days, it is no longer a team needed to pin her to her bed while they injected her with those medicines which always make her dream. Since the time she realized that they help her forget her life, albeit for a few hours and put her worries at bay, she has cooperated. Today as her doctor came towards her to check for her pulse, he asks “What happened Jia? Why are you panting?”. Jia smiles and recounts in her mind her run in the field. That dreamy far-away look comes over her eyes yet again. He injects her. Before she drifts off into another of her worlds, she hears her doctor’s words “You are in for a surprise tomorrow. Sleep well.”
Next day. Why are they making such an effort this afternoon? Just another day of her tedious routine, what’s so special? They bring in a beautiful saree for her. Jia drapes herself with care, aware of some special treat about to unfold, albeit not knowing what. The nurse was even sweet enough to bring her a matching red bindi. All dressed and looking her best, her eyes still away in some faraway land, Jia allows herself to be led out of her home, a ten by ten square feet room with a lone bed and a rack, with a small window high on her wall, a place which was her room for the past year. As she steps out, she hears a familiar squeak and looks back. Her little friend, true to routine, was on her window, perched for its meal. Jia turns back, takes with care her handkerchief perched on her shelf and carries out her familiar task. “It’s time to leave Jia. Hurry”.
Out in the waiting room, Jia waits, not knowing for what, for whom. As the overhead fan whirls out noisily with a boring monotony, she once more escapes far from the rehab centre. In her disarranged mind, which like a child runs helter skelter, she wanders far and loses herself in her fairyland yet again. A light tug at her elbow brings her back. Still in her own world, Jia turns to look. Her eyes meet a pair of sparkling eyes, matched by a smile as divine. She continues looking, not braving herself to believe what she saw, prepared to be drawn back into harsh reality any minute. She is afraid to blink. Those eyes now break into a laughter…that same squeal. The little boy of three lifts himself clumsily onto her lap, looks at her face and says ”You look so beautiful in a saree!”. He gives her a tight hug and looks back at her eyes. She recognizes that known look of concern she had seen earlier in the field. He says “Mamma, lets go home”.
Menu