Page 14 - Qavah

itself into nonexistence. What filled the air now surroundings became more foreign, and she She turned back, I stood still, not wanting to
was fear and grief. failed to attend to bodily instincts, resulting in perturb the moment, and then just for a
physical injuries and violent outbursts. Latha moment, a single exhilarating second I caught a
“She’s asleep” grew wearier of my delay; every day was a soft, knowing smile spread across her face. She
reminder that I had nothing left to fight for. turned back, reciting the incomplete poem. We
Latha took the seat next to me. “It’s getting The night before her admission was one of gloom, stood together for what might have been hours
worse; we have to take her to the facility” the clouds rolled in, immersing the moon in its reminiscing a past, stitching together an unsure

I could sense the apprehension in her voice. Two shadows, the garden remained plain, with buds future.
months, that was the time given to me, by this that refused to bloom, I was left with a mockery
time, if mother showed no signs of of my hope, hope that mother would recognize “Soft voices had they, that with tender plea
improvement, I had to take her to the facility. me just once, hold me, caress me and laugh at my Whisper'd of peace, and truth, and friendliness
For a year I convinced myself that won’t be my failed attempt at reviving the past.. I sank to the unquell'd.” I mused.
mother, she won’t be put in a position to be floor, hugging myself, from deep within, muffled Our story was not done after all.
taken care of, but my state of denial could not sobs racked my body, convulsing with fear and
go any longer. pain.
I glanced at the garden, amongst the weeds,
the dry rose bush pushed through, clawing its The week scheduled for mother’s admission
way for survival. All of a sudden my eyes glinted, neared, a deafening silence engulfed the house.
Preethi.S
watching the weak-dry leaves cling for dear life. She watched me like a stranger, observing my
“Will you help me with something, Latha?” actions with distrust. My smiles were met with
“You know, that’s not going to work” she hesitation.
whispered watching my eyes light up with hope.
“It’s worth a try” 17th October, finally made its way, Latha was

The next two months were spent on the helping me pack, trying to make conversation,
garden, Latha helped me despite her doubts. hesitant to approach the dreaded subject.
She'd worked with countless patients with Mother was making her way downstairs, Latha
dementia, watching them slowly turn into got up to help.
strangers to their own bodies. But she remained
silent through my 'project'. Yet her silence rang “Let her, this was her home. Let her walk around
through my ears, it was a reminder of the futility a bit… before…”
and naivety of the truth I fought to accept. What
remained of my mother was merely a physical After our packing, we made our way down. What
reminder of the person who once was my home. stood before our eyes was beyond either of our
She had travelled too far, too fast for my nimble comprehension. The living room was filled with
fingers to grasp. the sweet smell of roses in bloom, the garden
was filled with roses that danced to the tunes of
The rose bushes remained stubborn, it refused the wind, proudly unfurling its petals to soak in
to bloom despite of my tiresome and persistent the sunlight. Mother stood watching them,
care. Its obstinate nature reminded me of her, unaware of our presence. As I moved closer I
after all this was her project. caught her softly murmuring a forgotten tune,
Through it all, mother remained in her room, her “But when…thy roses…
animosity towards me took deeper roots, her My sense…deliciousness… spell'd:”…