Knitting the Fate

Chapter – Three

“Mamoni, Mamoni, where are you?” I was too excited. I just threw my bag upon the chair and ransacked the rooms. Finally, I found her in the garden under the Bokal tree knitting something. Father brought the sapling of Bokal from his friend’s house when he was a little kid and now it grew into a large body with voluminous branches.

“Mamoni here you are and I’m searching for you everywhere’’

She raised her silent eyes to me. I kneeled and putting my chin in her lap I spurted out,

“Mamoni I’ve been selected as the team leader for a seminar on “ Women in Rural India – Their Economic and Social Condition”. And you know Mamoni it will be a good prospect for my future placement”.

“It’s good.”

Just throwing those laborious words without any sparkle, she again became busy with her knitting. God knew what she was knitting so earnestly. I could recall this same pattern same colour and the same progress over the years. It seemed she unravelled what she knitted every day. And so far I could scratch my memory Mamoni had started the pullover just after she recovered from her trauma. She was making it for my father and when she remembered that he was no more she unwound it to forget again.

Sometimes I just wished to snatch it and tangle the woollen loops in a mess. But with clenched determination, I checked myself every time that destructive thought.

“Mamoni then I have to go to Chitora next month to join it.”

I met her eyes. But there was no tremor to pat me or subdue my agitation.

She just went on with her job pushing me into a devastating mood. I wished to hate her, screech at her, hurt her, anything to stir her to any sensation. Her immobility, placid indifference, and intolerable torpidity made me crazy. It doused all my spirit, and energy, sapping my vitality. I waited to swallow my frustration to mitigate my anger before boring into further conversation. As it was a common and frequent situation for me, I had to muster a bit of patience, obviously a lot of it.

“Mamoni have you taken your medicine?” I had to repeat that question twice till she acknowledged,

“Aatri, I no longer needed any medicine.”

 My assumption proved correct. She was again skipping her medicines.

“Mamoni do not you want to live? Why are you so selfish? You only think of yourself, not of me. Why? If you again get back to sickness and depression what will I do? Cannot you consider my condition? I’ve to go to Chitora and it is a big chance for me. They have selected only a few and I’m one of them. Cannot you feel it? Did not you care for me? Why do you make everything so tough for me being my mother?”

My tears rolled on her palms as I took her hands and put my face in them. She held my face and kissed my head. I felt her dry lips on my barren heart. Then she took her stuff and went on knitting. I felt dejected. My eyes were filling with rejection. All my joys and avidity just evaporated. I rose with a sigh and turned to go but then a hand caught me. I was startled and turned back.

“Call Basu vai. He’ll manage your journey. And call Sikha. I want to talk to her.”

Sikha aunty is Mamoni’s younger sister. I gleamed, and erasing the tears at the back of my palm I darted out to follow her instruction, putting a furtive kiss on her cheek. It seemed she gleamed for a moment.

 “Love you Mamoni. Please take care of yourself. If you keep me worried every time how can I live in peace and concentrate on my study?”

She nodded.

To be continued…

munu.ruku2020

Hey, I am Munmun, the phoenix fabulist who wants to tell you stories. I love to read stories and I love to weave stories. I feel life is an amalgamation of multiple stories, colourful threads, and threads of pain, pleasure, hope, and hopelessness. We just need to pick those hues and arrange them, knitting them with our own emotions and perception. So let’s celebrate the stories of life.