Small conversations, little things...
Small conversations, little things... and sometimes they are enough to make you realise - you will never be their daughter, no matter how much he says that they want you to be and how hard they try; because you will never be equal to their son.
Small conversations, little things... and sometimes they are enough to make you realise - I miss you mom, dad, di. Life sucks without you guys around.
The restaurant :
N : "Hey Mrs. S, you want to try this? Its delicious !"
Mrs. S : "No N. I wouldn't like it."
5 mins later
H : " Mom, you should eat this."
Mrs. S : eats.
The shopping trip :
Mrs. S : "Why are you limping?"
N : "Oh that. Managed to hit my little finger on the trolley."
Mrs. S : "Bleeding?"
N : "Yeah. But its not too bad. Im fine."
Mrs. S : "Ok."
Coupla hours later. We reach home, exhausted, haulding insane amount of stuff.
N : Lemme call H to help us carry all this stuff up.
Mrs. S : No N. He might be doing something. Don't disturb him.
Smile
I saw her again today...or someone exactly like her. Theyre all so same.
The last time I saw her..I cried. I'm not sure why, I'm not sure why now..but I did. I tried writing about her, couldn't. And couldn't write since. Today, I have to. The silence is suffocating otherwise.
I was just walking back from office one evening. Wide eyes...staring at the opulence of this city...after just a few weeks here I still wasnt used to it. And then I saw her, sitting on a tiny chair at the corner of a street. She was an old lady, so old. She was holding her hand out. It took me a few seconds to realise she was offering to sell something to me. She didnt say a word. Was just sitting their with her arm stretched, hoping someone would stop if they wanted to. I fact that I had stopped to notice her almost made her bent back upright...her eyes widened, a little smile crossed her withered lips. I...well I, just looked down and moved away. So many times...so many times I would have seen one similar back in India. But here, she made me cry. I was in tears by the time I stepped out of the elevator to enter my apartment.
My pen went silent since.
I saw so many more like her all around Singapore. That old feeble lady who cleans tables in Square 2 food court, the old man at the airport who collects trolleys. This is probably the only thing Ive ever heard Harsh complain about this country. For a country which has achieved so much in so little time, isnt it a worthwhile cause to give peace and rest to its elderly? - he says. Maybe he is right. Maybe you dont expect it in India - so much is left to be done there - maybe old people figure way down on the list of priorities. Me...I dont know what to say. Or what I believe. Or why I react this way now.
I was walking back from the train station today. Coming back from watching a movie about love and magic and dreaming.... humming the catchy Disney tune...
I saw her again. Another feeble small old lady...I saw her across the long walkway. She was carry two heavy looking bags...one on each shoulder, bags which were too heavy for her. She would move a couple of tiny steps and then would keep the bags down and take a long breath before picking them up again.
I almost ran to her..bending over I asked her if I can walk her over to the platform...or wherever she was going to. Then I saw, the same glimmer in her eyes as she put her hands in her bag and pulled some small things out. She was selling them. She could not understand what I was saying...she seemed only to speak Chinese. When I tried asking her again if I could drop her somewhere...she realized she cant understand me. She gave me a feeble little smile and then stepped away from me. As she walked away from me without so much as a second glance, I was frozen. I dont know why, I couldnt move. That sinking feeling of immense helplessness.
I did walk away. Eventually. When I could see her no more, I walked back home. That smile which she gave me, I cant forget. The silence as I saw her walk away...deafening.
