She grew up amid the quiet backwaters of Kerala. Born in a staunch Roman Catholic household, as the last born child, she was showered with love and affection from her siblings and parents. Her childhood though marred with difficulties, was filled with contentment. Though life was a struggle, the desire to win and work hard were instilled in her from an early age. A strong willed young woman, always steadfast in her endeavors to achieve her goals, that was Roseline. Slowly but surely, the time came when each of her sisters got married. As fate could have it, her father died before walking her down the aisle and a suitor arrived to seek her hand in marriage. A retired army man, much older than her. Her brother though apprehensive, trusted the man and gave his beloved Rosy away in marriage.
This decision would alter their lives forever. From the sheltering rustic simplicity of Kerala, Rosy travelled to the misty old charm of Bangalore to charter her destiny. With dreams aplenty and hope unlimited, she started her life as the demure housewife to a husband who was eccentric, erratic and aging. Unsteady income did not help either as Rosy soon became mother to two beautiful kids- a boy and a girl. Unable to meet ends and distraught at the thought of worrying her brother with her financial woes, Rosy took the matter in her hands.
As the kids grew, Rosy learnt the nuances of electrical equipment. In a one one bedroom shanty, she set up machinery to manufacture stabilizers. There was a loan to repay and kids to be educated. The atmosphere at home was no good either, with bickering every day. Sometime physical, sometime verbal but always violent. The innocent Roseline from Kerala was forced to become aggressively motivated to build a new life. Though the husband never really showered love upon her, her children grew up respecting their mother for her strong will and courage. Soon the son joined Rosy in her business and slowly yet surely, life became steady. A house was built soon. The daughter got married to a soft spoken, humble man. The son completed his education and landed a decent job.
He insisted on closing the stabilizer business and gave Rosy some much deserved rest. Finally after toiling endless for over 20 years, Rosy retired to the humdrum of domesticity in her house. Never in life had Rosy expressed her resentment to anybody. Everyday abuse was taken with a pinch of salt and her life revolved around her kids. Soon, her daughter gave her a big reason to rejoice. Rosy’s happiness knew no limits when her first grandchild was born. All she wanted now was to spend her remaining life, raising and tending to her grandchildren.
The husband had however other concerns. He saw the arrival of grandchildren as increased dependency of his daughter on her mom. With the son also getting married, having a daughter of his own and the daughter giving birth to another child, Rosy grew busier. Distant shores beckoned the son and Rosy convinced him to grab the opportunity as this spelled big success and meant that he was now a well settled man. On a fateful day, when the son had been away for a while and the daughter had left her kids with her mom to go to work, all hell broke loose. The husband wanted his son to come back to Bangalore and tend to the aging parents. Rosy tried in vain to explain the son’s earnest desire to earn well for his entire family, including the parents.
Arguments grew and the grandson, all of six did not know what to do. Crouching in a corner, he saw his grandparents fight badly. Then the unexpected happened. The husband brought a coconut scrapper and hit Rosy hard at the back of her head. There lay Roseline in a pool of blood with a nine-month-old, wailing grandson in the cradle and a six-year-old clueless grandson running to the neighbours for help. It was a tragedy which they could never fathom. The son was shattered and consumed by guilt. If only he had not left, his Amma would have been still alive.
The daughter was stunned and inconsolable. I for one lost my beloved Rosy auntie. Someone who tended to me like a mother when my own was away at work. The one who loved me like one of her own children. The one who rejoiced in my success and cried with me in my failures. My Rosy auntie now lies shrouded in eternal silence. I wonder if she is finally at peace. If the pain she lived with all her life and was inflicted on her till her last breath has subsided. The pain we feel though will not recede that easily. Her memories won’t fade away either. Like the flower she was named after, her fragrance lingers on.
Ashwini Nayak is a professionally qualified PR professional. She has a deep desire to travel the world. Painting on glass and listening to music are her favorite pastimes.