A knock at the door and they both were shaken to death; a chill ran through their spines. They dreaded any knock at their door. But they knew it would come – a knock at the door – and with it the final word.
And today it came…..
A shriek, loud, yet restricted and subdued, hit the ceiling of the small room that had become their hide-out for about four years. The man looked at her with red rimmed eyes,
“What are you doing? And why….? Don’t cry for ‘him’! How will you face God tomorrow…?”
And the tears she had controlled for all these years flowed from her eyes, hurtling past all flood-gates.
“Let me… let me… cry…! Let the pain wash my soul. All these years, dim wailing faces have been haunting me…cursing me… for begetting such a son… I felt their grief…but could not share their loss. Today I know. What it is to lose a son. Let me share this loss with them…. I am not crying for ‘him’…These are not my tears, but theirs. I know nothing can bring back what they have lost….but don’t stop me…let me cry…”
The man stood stunned and stupefied.
It is not easy to understand a mother’s heart.
Narinder Jit Kaur is a retired Associate Professor from Patiala,who taught English Literature for 31 Years in various Government Colleges of Punjab. A writer and a translator, she has five books of translations, from Punjabi to English, to her credit Including Voices In The Back Courtyard(Rupa & Co.) -An Anthology Of Short-Stories By Punjabi Women Writers. She writes articles, poems and short-stories in English, Punjabi and Hindi. You can read more from her on narinderjit.com