Prena Poetry

The door was half opened as I reached my house, it was quite odd that mum reached home earlier than us. Usually it would be mum to lock the door in the morning and I would tediously be home to unlock the door by the evening and wait for her to return from office. And for eight hours our house would just be empty with no life or sound of the loud Television. But today, everything seemed unusual.

I kept my school shoes by the door and silently walked inside. The scenario of the living room was exactly like how it was in the morning, Jigme’s shirt was was still clumsily hung on the sofa, the curtains were only half opened and the living room was a complete mess with unwashed cups and folded magazines. Mum was always so precise and punctual but it rather seemed like she did not arrange of the stuffs today, perhaps she must have been tired of managing the house and doing everything for us.

I couldn’t think of more valid reasons, instead I dropped my bag on the floor and looked out of the window if she happened to be outside or not. There was still no response when I walked into her bedroom and called her more than thrice. It was weird that the blankets weren’t folded and her Kira was still kept perfectly on the chair, it was like as if no one had entered the room since morning. And all I could hear was my own voice reflecting back at me in a mocking way, pointing out the fault and guilt within me. A kind of dim atmosphere sensed the floor, it strangely started to captivate my mind and dissolve into a pool of anxiousness.

“Ashim Baby?”, I heard Jigme as he briskly walked into the living room and immediately turned on the television to his favorite show.

“Where is Mummy?”, he questioned and completely fixed his gaze on the loud screen in front of him.

“I-I don’t know. It seems like she didn’t leave for office but she isn’t even home”, I confronted and headed towards the balcony.

“I’m thirsty!”, Jigme whined as he kicked his little shoes off his feet and climbed onto the sofa.

“Just take out the juice from the fridge and drink. I’m busy!”

It was always so annoying to do everything for Jigme and still the whole family would praise him the most. But for now, there was no use channeling my anger. Mum was missing and that was more concerning. I clutched onto the ring on my finger and abruptly some unsettling thoughts began to voice inside me. Because just this morning mum told me that I could have this ring, and she would come home late today for she has alot of pending works at office. And now it rather seemed like the whole morning scenario never happened and Mum just disappeared.

“Mummy! Why are you still on the chair?!”, I heard Jigme squeal as he went into the kitchen. For a moment, the unsettling thoughts and anxiety calmed down and I walked towards the kitchen with a huge sigh.

“Ashim Baby…why is mummy not moving?”, Jigme unmasked as his intonation suddenly grew cold. I cautiously walked walked towards the dining table as I saw our mother with her head laid still on the back of the chair. Her placid dark eyes remained obsidian still and her overweight cheeks exposed extreme paleness. Everything was left messily like how it was in the morning, unwashed dishes, the tea spilled table mat and the exhaust fan was still rotating in a slow pace, and I couldn’t move an inch but stood like a moulded monument.

“Ashim Baby, what happened to Mummy?”

“ASHIM SANGAY! say something!! What happened to Mummy?!”, Jigme started punching me with his little fist as his voice trembled and tears rolled down his plum like cheeks.

Perhaps I could have told 5 year old Jigme that our mother was dead for I was old enough to understand what had happened to that body lying in front us with no amount of life in any inch. But I couldn’t. I immediately fell on my feet and stared straight into my mother’s eyes, how I wished for it to blink and give me hope like it always did. But it was too late, those eyes didn’t even get to say goodbye to what it loved the most. And I couldn’t even feel my breath or utter a word to Jigme, who was screeching and pulling mum’s hand, wishing mum would just take him into her arms like everyday. It was like as if the whole reality fell apart and I fell right into the abyss with no sense.

Later by night, Dad and grandmother finally made their way home from the Capital and the house started to fill up with neighbors and never ending questions. A man in pale nylon gho was consulting Dad who completely stood ghosted in the middle of kitchen, while my grandmother who never really appreciated her daughter in law cried her heart out saying ‘she was a good person’ but now her affections were too useless to a corpse with no deed or desires.

Some people from the hospital placed our mother’s body on the stretcher and walked away as little Jigme followed them with eyes full of remorse. Everything felt like a tormenting memory that I never wanted to remember.

And people around me helplessly offered their condolences and tired their best to comfort for the loss I had. But there wasn’t anyway where I could say ‘It’s alright, I’m fine’

How on earth could it ever be alright and yet the neighbours who infrequently coped with other people’s death so easily anticipated me to move on like as if Mum was one of those nameless trees cut down to replace with a city. And there wasn’t even any way to make them understand, other than giving them a complete silent expression indicating that I don’t need them to make me feel better.

I sat on the sofa and rested my head among the shambles of frantic utterance and oversized women weeping alongside the wall. Somehow a part of me wished to become that 7 year old Sangay Palden and drift afar into a forest as I hold my mother’s hand and look for butterflies, while mum would just take out her lilac covered diary and write a short poem for the butterflies in the woods. Our mother was a beautiful writer, and I would just sit beside her and listen to her voice reading out the sweetest verse until it would faint and the entire forest would just disappear.

Just then, I felt a feminine hand on my shoulder that softly pulled me away from the disappearing woods and placed me back to the reality. I couldn’t recognize the face or the her placid voice, but she told me that our mother was a beautiful hardworking woman, somehow unfortunately she died of stroke but she will forever be remembered for her kindness, and now I had to be a brave daughter. She also placed mother’s lilac diary on my hand and quietly walked away with a rosy smile, disappearing into the hurdle of people and noises.

JuFor a moment, I felt my heart ache with a sensation like as if mother just walked past me waving a final goodbye. I finally planted passing smile on my face and kissed my mother’s diary, knowing that somehow now the most beautiful part of our mother lives in the pages of this diary and that was all I ever had.