Last night I chatted with a friend of mine. He casually mentioned how he visited a friend’s mother. This friend (let me call him Mahesh) of his died a couple of years back. I was really moved when I learnt that the mother’s eyes filled up with tears when it was time for them to leave. It was that thought that disturbed me. A mother who is still undergoing the pain of her son’s loss is very sad.
I have only heard about this Mahesh and have seen his profile and his picture in Orkut. Though Mahesh is a stranger to me, there is something common in us. So I have a kind of bond with Mahesh.
I couldn’t sleep last night as my thoughts kept wandering from one incident to another that took place in my life. And in course of time I had woven a string of thoughts.....the good ones and the bad ones. It moved from my childhood to my parents’ incompatibility to my rebellious teenage days to my adulthood to death of my close friend, to Mahesh then to my father’s bankruptcy to the separation of my family members and to my lost brother and finally to my own Mum.
I was just wondering how painful it is for mothers to accept the death of their children. It is even more painful to lose contact with their children. When a parent loses a child due to an accident or a suicide it is very shocking. It may take years for them to come over that fact. It is even more painful to see mothers going into a depression or ending up with dementia or Alzheimer’s disease.
Why is that I keep thinking about Mahesh? Well Mahesh and my friend Farid (name changed) died on 15th March. One was a suicide and the other an accident. One died 2 years back while the other twenty two years back. The mother of one is still living in her son’s memory while the other died of Alzheimer’s disease. There is only one relief….both of them knew that their children were never going to come back.
My mother is living her life thinking about her first born son with whom everyone lost contacts. Nobody knows anything about him and even if they do they are not willing to let the family know in which condition he is in. My brother left India to join my father in 1983. He was a drug addict and he went beyond Mum’s control. Mum thought it was best for him to be with Dad. He went abroad and became worse. Things went totally out of control. All that he needed was money and he did anything for it. That is my brother!!!!
Since 1985 nobody knows what has happened to him. No relatives of mine have seen him. We haven’t seen him since 1983. Though we visited there we had no idea about his whereabouts. Every time one of us goes abroad, Mum begs us
“Mole/ mone, Saleem mone kurichu onnu aneshikanne” [daughter/son, please enquire about Saleem].
Mum will keep contacting us if we came to know about his whereabouts. When we return we can see the disappointment on Mum’s face. My Mum’s condition is even worse than that of Mahesh’s or Farid’s mothers. They know/knew that their children will never return. Here a mother waits eagerly for her son’s return. She keeps aside a property with the hope that he will come back some day. I know for sure that my brother is never going to return. He has lost all human feelings and he is into some kind of trap. We can never tell Mum about it. We always avoid the topic of my brother but Mum comes up with the topic every now and then. The saddest part is Mum always keeps saying,
“Njan marikunnathinu mumpu eniku Saleem mone ne onu kannan pattumo?” [“Will I ever be able to see my son Saleem at least before I die?”]
I have no answer to this question of Mum. I cannot tell her the truth. Truth is very disturbing and it is better not to disturb her mind. Mum goes into bouts of depression when someone asks her about my brother. I don’t think I could have felt sad if I heard that my brother died. Then there is nothing to look forward to. Here I am letting my old parents live with a false hope that he will come back some day. I really don’t know if that will ever happen.
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