We seem to foget...To Prabha,Malini

[Guest guest]

A true story....as remembered and retold by my dear wife...

During one of the return trip from Delhi to Sewagram,after the

vacations,wayback in the late 80's....,Seema saw a scene...at the New Delhi

station...where a mother of an '84 batch girl,was pleading with her sweet

daughter...to carry an old fashioned..water filled bottle,for the

journey...while the daughter...a close friend of Seema...kept insisting that she

was going to have no association with that old symbol status..of the bygone

era...as she argued..

As,a last failed resort.....the mother asked Seema to carry the bottle...for the

journey...

Many yrs,later...the same daughter turned mom...now, has to learn...What's cool

and what isn't...from gen next...

(The characters in this story..have, in no way, been concealed and hope their

identities are quite evident...)

Bye.

Shyam(84)

Re: My Son, The Doctor- My daughter The doctor

Dear Parvin,

It must have been very painful time for you. I can feel the deep sense of

loss in your mail.

I lost my mother two years ago - to acute pancreatitis. The course of the

illness was just eight hours, and she was gone before I could see her. I

reached two hours after she passed away. Nobody had expected this turn of

events - least of all her treating physicians. That morning, she had started

a free education facility for underprivileged children, came home from

there, complained of discomfort in abdomen, my father took her to the ICU in

MGIMS where she was investigated, remained stable till mid afternoon, and

suddenly went downhill after that. Sewagram is 9 hours from Bhopal, where I

stay (flights take longer, because they are via Bombay) - and we drove down

immediately - but I was still too late.

I take solace in the fact that my father was with her continuously, and that

she was surrounded by people who had a lot of love and respect for her. She

had touched many lives, and was truly mother to innumerable underprivileged

people. While many of them were at her side, the rest were on their way. I

was grateful for that.

I still feel the loss, sometimes I feel that I sense the loss more now than

I did earlier. Perhaps part of it is a feeling that my daughter ( now

officially a teenager ) had a lot to learn from my mother. Some of it is a

need for guidance from someone who had lived life on her own terms - I

suppose that is what growing up is all about !

Take care,

Prabha' 84

parvin ansari <parvin_ansari@ <mailto:parvin_ansari%40yahoo.com> yahoo.com>

wrote:

I can fully understand Dr Shah..

You are lucky that you met your mother, you saw her.

At first, I was just wondering, is this a true story or a story. But now,

when I learned that this is a true story, then I could ger courage to write.

Till today, if anyone tells/ talks about his/her mother, or I hear anyone's

mother death, I am not able to hold back my tears. When I read your story,

then also same thing happened.

My mother also used to tell others with pride, that my daughter is doctor.

My mother died 11 years ago, young, at 64 years of age. I met her 1yr and 3

months before her death. I was leaving for Saudi Arabia (my first

appointment) and went to meet my mother, sisters and brother. My father came

to Delhi with me. Before my departure from my Maika (Aligarh), just at the

time of Good-Bye, my mother said " God willing, we will meet if I stay

alive " adn I laughed at her. She replied (I can still hear that voice) " Han

bitiya, hamen kamzori lagti hai " (yes daughter, I feel week). ... I curse

myself... I came back to Delhi and withing two days I was in Saudi Arab.

Once I settled down there, I told my father, that her check-up should be

done as she feels week. Check up was done and she got a big bottle of Tonic.

In our country (and many other), a lady is not sick till she can walk adn

work. My mother was very active, had very good figure with flat and tight

abdomen, and always liked todo her own work. My sisters and brother are

married and were already married that time. At home, my father, my brother

and his wife, and his two handsome sons.

As you know, muslims pray five times a day, since I can remember, I have

seem mother praying like this...five times a day...There is one prayer,

before dawns prayer and that is not obligatory but voluntary, she used to

pray that after all her children got married (called " Tahajjud " ). My

father's routine was to make tea for her..so early in the morning...

Six months before her death, I recieved her hand written letter, the last

sentence was " I had pain in my left hand but now is ok " . I kept the letter

as I always saved her letter...very precious... these were my mother's

letters.

One week before her death she sent a small slip to my two sisters who live

in the same city with their families, both in opposite direction ..away

from each other. In that slip she wrote, " Tum Logon Se Milna Chahti hoon,

bachchon ko le kar aana, Eid ka kya maloom (I want to meet you both, bring

your children, we dont know about Eid) " . One of my sister went to meet her

next day with her children, other one was very busy (both have jobs) so she

sent her children but herself did not go and thought , anyway, she has to go

on Eid then she will meet.

Ten days before her death.. my father started sleeping in another room

saying, she disturbs me very early in the morning, then I get headache whole

day. So, the routine changed. My mother still getting up early... started

going to my fathers room to wake him up, he used to make tea for her, and

then used to go to his room to have a peaceful sleep till morning.

On the day of her death, as I told you, she was very active, around 11 in

the morning she said to my father " Meri tabiyat ghabra rahi hai,main apni

friend ko mil kar aati hoon (I am feelinig confused, am going to my friend),

she said about her neighbour. She left and came back within 10 mts. My

father did not ask anything as he assumed that neighbour must not be at home

that's why she came so soon.

In the evening she said I am feeling nauseated, my father said " Doctor has

told you to reduce tea, you have acidity, and you dont listen to doctor " . In

late evening she took a Lota filled with water, a small plastic tub, and a

small towel, kept all this under the bed, ...just in case she has

vomitting...she didn't like anyone to bother...always liked her work to do

on her own...so she lied down.

Around 9 pm, when they were going to have dinner, my sister-in-law called

her, she just moved her hand. My father said, ok , don't wake her, let her

sleep. They kept food near her bed, so that if she gets up late she will eat

herself. When my father got up in the morning...oh...why didnt she wake me

up for tea? Ran to the room...no body knows when she died...food was there,

water was there, plastic tub was there...she was lying streight, face

towards Kaba...They did not need even to turn her face towards Kaba...

Till today my father cries...why didnt I took her to hospital ..she said

only nausea, she said only " tabiyat ghabra rahi hai "

Her friend said in the morning...how can she die so suddenly ? she was ok,

when she came to me...she did not like to stay and said " main ja rahi hoon,

meri aaj tabiyat ghabra rahi hai "

This day was Eid...my sister could not see her...she came to see her on

Eid...

Sorry, if this painful to some, but I shared my story...

Parvin '71

Shah <kshahskygmail (DOT) <mailto:kshahsky%40gmail.com> com> wrote:

Thanks Anshu, Ashish, Nilanjana and Ravin.

I must confess that when my mother died, I did not shed a single tear. I was

so frightened and numb. But when I wrote this piece, my eyes brimmed up.

Kishore Shah 1974

The bitterest tears shed over graves are for words left unsaid and

deeds left undone. -

Harriet Beecher Stowe abolitionist and novelist

(1811-1896)

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