I saw my father start his scooter. As soon as I heard the bellowing noise, I ran to held my mother to not leave me behind. I threw the chocolates away. Clutching her saree end, I looked at her beseechingly: “ Don’t leave me behind!”
Never did I ever have that sinking feeling as to where I would go or what I would do without my parents until a few days ago around Diwali. So powerless I have felt in these last ten days that I don’t remember feeling like this in a long time now. It’s hard to put it into words. But only words have been constantly around at my disposal, it’s just I have to learn to use it better. This was my parent’s fourth visit to my in-laws in the last three years. This year, my parched eyes not yet moistened in convalescence yearned for that lilt that would make things alright in a jiffy. I wished for us to be four again! Together under one roof just like old times and not fitting themselves in the phone. I wish I never grew up or have grown to be so miserable.
Over time, I have come to see in my parents -the rock, unshakable. Together, they have weathered such tumultuous times that it has only made them stronger. I have come to wish the monotony of their hard and quiet labour. I have come to wish their late afternoons lying on the bed. Lately, I have been thinking that I am so used to having them around either physically or on phone that I worry the day when they would just be photographs or a contact saved on the phone I can’t ring back to. I am extra careful in noting down the recipes as if I wouldn’t get another chance in correcting the mistake. I feel hollow from the inside to have not been able to percolate whatever I had been showered with all these years. Half empty, it’s as if I can’t take them for granted. Not now. Not ever.
When they left today, I touched the sofa they sat on. Somehow, I felt the fabric would have captured their warmth of lingered presence. I played and replayed the picture of them opening the gates and closing it behind themselves. I saw their look enveloping me in their eyes. I felt my mother’s long hug. The familiarity of her pink saree, the caress of her hands on my back. I fought back tears. I swam in the delight and pain of a wanting moment to hold her a little longer. They handed me boxes of sweets and again took a long look around if I were doing well. “ No, I am not doing well. Certainly not going to get better any sooner.”
Had my parents not left me behind, I wouldn’t have moved forward in my life. I wouldn’t have completed my education or got married. But have I ever moved forward? Though, I have ticked the milestones, I am used to my emotional state of loving and longing.