1
One Story
My mother lies on her bed in front of me in the dark room. She is asleep on her right side at
the moment. In a couple of hours I will turn her over to her left side. I will be careful to pull
out her left arm so that it does not get stuck under her weight. I will check her feeding tube
to make sure it has not opened, got caught in her hair or under her face. I will move the paper
towel so that it is under the left side of her mouth – to catch the mucus that sometimes comes
out of her mouth and so save the pillow cover. I will put a cushion between her two knees to
make sure her legs do not stick together. Through this whole process, sometimes her eyes
will open and sometimes they won’t.
Every life is a story. Billions of people have been born on this earth and billions have died
and that translates into billions of stories we do not know. But right now I wish I knew more
of my Mum’s story. She was born in Pakistan but where? I think it was back in Mataji’s (my
grandmother’s) village but I think her passport says Sialkot. What was Mataji’s village
named? Family stories say they there was a large house with a huge door inlaid with brass.
Mataji’s father was supposed to be a saintly unworldly man who was possibly a bit off his
rocker. Mataji’s mother and only brother died early of a typhoid like plague. Mataji’s
marriage was arranged with Pitaji because he was handsome and had a BA degree. Otherwise,
he did not have a lot going for him. He had been orphaned early and brought up by his aunt
and uncle. The aunt is supposed to have been quite a bitch to Mataji. I remember something
about her taking all of Mataji’s jewellery and making her work when she was pregnant and
ill. Mataji lost her first couple of children before Mum was born. Fortunately, somewhere
along the way Pitaji’s job with the Accountant General’s office took him on postings to
different places, which is why I don’t know where Mum was born.
Mataji always felt inferior to Pitaji because she had not studied beyond a few classes. She
made sure her daughters went to school. Mum was a good student especially in Maths. More
than her other three siblings, she took after Pitaji, in terms of both brains and strong
personality. When she finished school, Pitaji thought that was enough education for a girl.
The story goes that she went on to do her BA because the school principal came home to beg
my grandfather to let my Mum study further and offered to find financial aid if that was his
worry. Pitaji was so upset at the suggestion that he could not afford to send his daughter to