She’s standing in the doorway to terrace, and makes up her mind to whether go out in the rain, or make some savouries for her family. The latter outweighs the former, and she drags herself to the kitchen with a poignant heart and perspicacious cheer, that hasn’t left her since the visit.
A few months before, her doctors advised her to give up her treatment and start living. As per them, she had not been living a normal life but a mechanical one, and not to forget a MEDICAL one. Life had not been so easy but it had never been an impossible either. She knew how to live, but others have an altogether different opinion. Their advice GIVE UP STRESS, But with no proposition whatsoever. Did they ever hear ‘it’s easier said than done’?
It’s Wednesday, five days before than today, she is standing in front of the calendar. She notices the date, and turns back a few months. A few mental calculations later she fixates on a number -32. Not number but, number of days in actual. She comes back to the current month and marks the date with a big red orb. These five days will be so tumultuous, that the blood could curdle in veins, but knowing her I know, it’s not blood but sheer steel that runs through her. What holds her upright is the thought of my coming to her… I wish she knew otherwise.
“..Ibi…it’s been enough of hide and seek… stop playing ‘it’… it’s time that we finally confront each other… NO…NO… I don’t mean that I’m weary of this game… I can never be weary of you and your mischief but others don’t know you as I do… they can’t wait…I guess you understand… WHY!!!... You saw father yesterday and the longing look when he looked at Fahad… It stirs up something inside and I know you felt it too. So don’t ask me why!...”
She continues on her own- as if held in trance, while she’s busy whipping and chopping. Her husband is standing in the doorway and hears her. He calls out to her but she doesn’t listen… How can she? She’s been talking to me. He calls her again, loud this time. She’s startled, turns around and drops the cleaver onto her foot. And there it was, a moment frozen in time. Before the cleaver could reach out to meet her foot, her husband ducks and pushes her away, only to have her flying into the cabinet.
She falls, but doesn't get hurt.
Instead, Gets really hurt.
“Why do you do this to yourself? Why can’t you live with normal people like us, like normal people do? Why ! Why! Why??? Hasn’t been enough already…” I hear him say with a swelling tone that loudens with every note … “get normal, even your doc asks you too, or you’ll be no good.”
There it was a message loud and clear, that she hasn’t been any good and runs the chance of never going to be one either. Something she has always dreaded to hear… and from the last person she expected.
Simultaneously, she’s struggling for her breath, as much as words that escape her at the emergence of tears. She stands up and walks past him, into the bedroom, and then into the balcony. IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIbbbbbbbbbbbbbeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee and She screams. She flops down onto the floor and gasps for breath. Hasn’t it been enough already.
He follows her scream only to find her trembling with rage. With piercing silence they acknowledge each other’s presence only not to speak. He comes to her, and she flinches. He sits down besides her and strokes her hand. She looks him squarely into the eye. He notices her quivering lips.
I ain’t Normal huh… I didn’t mean it… and I’m no good either…. I didn’t say it this way. All I meant by saying that, was to bring you back to our lives, for I’m afraid I don’t want to lose you.
Her rage hasn’t settled, and yet ‘the cup runneth over.’ It drowns in her own tears, and the din of her sobs.