Dinamalar

THE LAST MEETING WITH MY MOTHER 1974. WE WERE LIVING HUNDRED KILOMETRES APART. IN THE INTERVENING NIGHT BETWEEN THE SHIFTS I REACHED HOME PAST MIDNIGHT AND THE WHOLE TOWN WAS DARK DUE TO POWER CUT. ON SEEING ME, MOTHER WOKE UP IN HER BED AND SMILED IN THE KEROSENE LAMP LIGHT. I WENT BY HER SIDE AND APOLOGETICALLY SAID, ‘I DIDN'T GET LEAVE MOTHER NESTLED ME UP CARESSINGLY KEPT HER CHEEK WITH MINE. TOUCH SPEAKS SO MANY COMPLEX FEELINGS. TOUCH IS THE LANGUAGE OF LOVE, THE LANGUAGE THAT SPEAKS THROUGH SILENCE, THE LANGUAGE THAT BRINGS HEARTS TOGETHER. THOSE WERE MY MOST CHERISHED MOMENTS OF LIFE TIME. I UNDERWENT AN INDESCRIBABLE EXPERIENCE UNABLE TO SPEAK. AFTER A WHILE, SHE ARDENTLY SAID IN A VERY LOW VOICE, “YOU ARE MY SON BORN WITH GOD’S GRACE AFTER MY LONG OBSERVANCE OF THE VOWS AND PENANCE HOW CAN I STAY WITHOUT SEEING YOU, BRING YOUR CHILDREN”. “I SURELY BRING THEM ON MONDAY BY CHOLAN EXPRESS” I ASSURED. I HAD NO OTHER OPTION EXCEPT TO RELUCTANTLY RETURN IN A LITTLE WHILE, NOT ONLY TO PICK UP MORNING SHIFT, BUT MORE IMPORTANTLY TO BRING MY FAMILY. BUT SHE WAS NOT THERE TO SEE HER MOST BELOVED SON, MORE SO HER DAUGHTER IN LAW AND TWO GRANDDAUGHTERS. YES, SHE’D COLLAPSED WHILE ENTERING HOSPITAL LOBBY, JUST HALF AN HOUR EARLIER BEFORE OUR ARRIVAL, WHICH NOBODY EVER EXPECTED. BODY HAD ARRIVED JUST MINUTES BEFORE WE CAME HOME.