On March 29th, my mom was resting in the hospital in an Ice box. After more than 24 hours and 3 flights, I was finally in Raipur. Right after me, my brother-in-law and two cousins were coming too from various cities. The plan was to go to see her directly from the airport - all of us. But at the Delhi Airport, I changed my mind that I cannot go to see my mom in this condition. She went to bed every night in a fresh nightgown. There was no way I was hugging her stinking. I decided to go home before I head out to the hospital.
So I told my sister to keep a set of clothes ready for me for a quick shower. When I reached home, I had one of her sarees ready on the bed for me. I went to say goodbye to Amma, told her I loved her, and then came home with my dad. We went back to say a final goodbye to her at the medical college. That saree felt like a warm hug from her that day.
After a few days when we were getting ready to go to Allahabad, I realized my mother didn’t pack many sarees for this trip. There was only one saree in her bag, the one I wore. In a couple of days, the cards (Condolence messages or invitations for Ganga Pooja) were being printed.
The saree came to Boston with me along with a few others from her Bangalore closet. Yesterday, I had my Boston village coming together to comfort me, support me. They all came home to celebrate my mother. I couldn’t find anything else but the same saree to drape. And one of the friends noticed the saree on the slideshow running in my living room. Till then, I hadn't noticed that she was wearing the same saree in that invitation pic. There was one pic of that invite.
Yesterday again, my mother was around me, within me. I was wrapped in her love and warmth in the form of her saree.
No comments:
Post a Comment