The Accident

"Krish be careful with that skateboard " shouted my husband Pankaj from the living room ...as my son was trying a new stunt on his skateboard... fearless and free.when i peeped out from the kitchen to look at Pankaj ...he looked pale and nervous complaining about the idea of getting him a new skateboard . Krish is 5 years old very sporty and athletic whereas his father is over-protective about him . We have picked up many fights over this ,but somehow there is an innate understanding between the father and the son...he understands the need to explain to his father that he will be safe... though I cannot seem to talk Pankaj out of his role here.

Pankaj is also an extremely insecured son . He cherishes his parents. He cannot bear their absence ,sometimes it bothers me ...but well I remember when we fell in love and were dating each other 10 years back he was consistent and forgiving ...to all my childish whims... and temper tantrums .I used to wonder a rich lad like him who has friends by his side ,a mercedes and a latest trendy motor bike to impress girls ... reasonably good looks and style and a bunch of admirers for his beautiful and melodious voice ,why would he be so unreasonably affected by the idea of losing me ... but somehow I took pleasure in testing his love now and then basking in the feeling of being wanted .

But Now I know what losing meant to him ... yes hadn't it been for my grand father-in-law 85 years old who lived alone in Jalgaon ....and told me about his real mother ...about the pain he suffered as a 3 year old .... about his sleepless nights searching for his mother in every nook and corner ...about the dreadful accident...I would have never understood what was going on in his heart.

Pankaj was 3 years old when his maternal grandfather planned a tour with his family in entirety to visit the holy shrine of Badrinath and Kedarnath which at those times was considered to be a most difficult journey,the road to Badrinath was quite a tricky one. Pilgrims snaked their way on the edge of the Himalayan mountain range and crossed various rivers . One wrong step and that was it. There was no coming back. Reason why, Badrinath was visited in the twilight years of one's life. Family back home celebrated pilgrim's safe return from Badrinath. The tradition still continues.
Pankaj and his father could not accompany one for his age and the other for his work ...but I would rather say both for their fate.
When Sarla Pankaj's mom was leaving for the pilgrimage she had no idea what was waiting for her. She bid a loving goodbye to her husband who was madly in love with this woman who was free spirited and had a completely contrasting personality than his own.... she was young and expressive... she played the harmonium and sang soulfully ...she beautified the bed covers with her neat and precise embroidery. she personified the handkerchiefs by engraving the initials of my father-in-law on them.She loved cinema,fashion,kids and life. She befriended the entire neighborhood with her charming and amicable nature. She was a real support in the family where everyone looked up to her.
Sarla ran down the steps excited about the upcoming tour with her family ,but suddenly she felt she has forgotten something so she came back once again and planted a kiss on the forehead of her son ...who was wailing for he did not want his mother to part ...as if he had sensed something. Sarla requested me to take good care of her son and give him milk and cereal on time...and turned to go ...her son held on to the corner of her saree screaming to be picked up ...she picked him up and laughed through her tears ...and said oh ! its so difficult to leave even for a few days ...and yes remember he's scared of the dark and allergic to orange candies ... I assured her I will take care and took the child in my arms ... recalled Chandrakala who was a new member in the family married to Sarla's brother-in-law but felt close to her because of her warmhearted personality.

Sarla set out for her last journey along with her brothers ,their wives, sisters , her grown up nieces, nephews and parents and boarded the bus that was to take them to the crisp mountain air, rivers that run waters from melting glaciers, lush green forests ,...valley of flowers that turned out to be the valley of darkness and death .The steep hill on which the bus was crawling came to a dead end suddenly ...the driver realized that he had made a fatal mistake and the crackling sound of laughter of the family contained in the bus turned to panic stricken howls , my maternal grand father-in-law who was sitting with the driver in the front was thrown out on the safer side of the mountain ...where as the bus started its backward journey to the valley ...driven by gravity ...one of Sarla's sister jumped off through an open window and her legs got crushed in the process ...she lives today within the confinement of her bed and a wheelchair shivering at the recall of the accident that tore apart the family ... her father and herself the lone survivors . Sarla tried to escape ...yelled and cried for help ... but in a moment the road was empty ....the bus was gone .... in the depth of the darkness.... no body survived ... my grand father-in-law came back with corpses of his shrunken world ...

Back at home at the same time that was 2 am in the morning a toddler opened his eyes to a dreadful nightmare and heard his mother calling for him ... he bellowed and cried waking up the whole house ...and then the phone rang...

The world collapsed ...but the blessings and love of God helped in rebuilding it... the entire neighborhood and family doted on him and helped in his bringing up... someone ran for his admission to the school...someone for his food ... and then in time he got his mother in Sharda who got married to his father to help him overcome his pain and lonliness and to move on with his life.She held his hand and raised him up from a child to a responsible man .... she nurtured him and did justice to the name he called her with "mumma!".She gave him his siblings whom he adored . She graced his life with blessings.

Today things are "normal" but the lost one lives on ...in the heart,in the eyes and in the subconscious of his mind... in his fears...in his love...in his songs ....somewhere in him....one does not have to search too hard... to find the pain ...that's still fresh ...

Now when I see him rushing to the corridors and picking Krish up from his minor fall ... hugging him tight ,pressing him against his chest and sleeping peacefully or enduring my mood swings with love and acceptance or listening to his mom and dad with enormous patience and sacrificing a bit of life everyday to make them happy... surrendering even when he's in the right with his siblings .... I can see those innocent eyes of a three years old desperately seeking...to hold on to the image of his mother... I see him and realize ...the meaning of holding on....the pain of losing ... I see him and understand how he knows what's bigger than ego and differences ...they are the relations that are planted in our hearts ...I see what still remains after you are gone.

The legacy of goodness that you spread around continues.

By Shreeja Jhawar