Standing there motionless her
face spoke. So much so that I stood there. My legs wouldn’t move and neither
did my eyes. Transfixed was I looking at the emotion filled expression on the
face of this woman. Why was she looking almost near tears? Instinctively I looked at where she was
emoting. Stood a girl in a tattered uniform, unmistakably her daughter – eyes
welled up, holding on to the railing of a transformer box outside my office.
For the mother and daughter the world didn’t exist for that moment. Only in
existence was the angst that they shared. Mother looked at her child and the
child looked back. Nobody could come in the way of their stare. Not even I, who
stood in between. But they looked through me, over me and maybe with me.
The girl was crying and maybe
cross with her mother. I thought she was maybe scolded or beaten by her mother,
but one look at the woman’s face and I couldn’t fathom such a common
possibility. This was something else. Didn’t have to think too long, as the
mother, whose hands I hadn’t noticed before this – what with my preoccupation
with her face – were clutching a ten rupee note. Her fingers opened a wee bit
slowly and a bit more again, until she revealed the ten rupee note to her
child. Her arms extended and so did her eyes. Yearning for her daughter’s acquiescence
and maybe hoping for reconciliation. Her face was again a picture of sadness
and love. Realizing that the child wanted money, which was denied by her
mother, it was the mother’s love for her child’s happiness that created this
emotional upheaval in the mother’s heart. She was on her way to work while her
child was on her way to school – both separating at that turn in the road.
Maybe the turn in the road was much more than that.
She held out the note to her
child and was now pleading her to take it. I walked a bit toward the 10 year
old child and saw through that her mind was in a twist…. She wanted the money,
was hurting from being denied, realized her mother was denying for some serious
reason, but was now being asked to pick up the money after her melancholic
turn. I waited and waited, deciding to see the climax of this poignant moment in
the life of this economically deprived family. Torn between her love for her
child and her poverty was this woman. Torn between her need for little money
for her school and respect for her mother’s decision was this child. The mother
stood there, the child stood and it seemed Time also stood watching. So was I.
Transfixed. The mother was almost near
tears, was getting late to work and here was her daughter maybe, just maybe
throwing a tantrum. The child with her slow gait walked towards her mother,
without looking into her eyes, and silently took the single note. I don’t know
if she looked into her mother’s eyes after getting the money, ‘cuz my eyes welled up looking at the mother’s
face. She was still cringing inside while she looked like holding her child and
crying her heart out at this cruel situation.
Maybe she knew she needed those
ten rupees for that day’s food. Maybe she knew she was letting go her savings
for the week. Maybe she knew that with the rains, she would be out of work for
a few days this month and needs all her savings to pull her family through.
Maybe she knew this money could be used for more essential than a child’s spending
in school. At the same time, maybe the child was asking the money for buying a
book that was absolutely needed for her studies. Maybe she wanted to get her
tattered skirt stitched – a girl on the cusp of puberty starts becoming a woman
much earlier than the world imagines. Maybe she needed the money for some
coloring book or the afternoon munch at the school-side shop – which she was
too young to let go, once in a while. What would we know of the reasons of
these two actors of God, playing out their tragic roles to perfection in this
theatre of ambition and wealth called Bangalore city.
With her reluctant hands clutching
the note, the child turned, walked a bit, stopped, turned back to look at her
mother, who was long gone in the crowd of workers making their hurried way to
their sites – in pursuit of subsistence.
The kid walked slowly, staring at the note, not for a moment smiling,
not for a moment showing any trace of victory, not for a moment happy. Neither was
the mother happy, nor was the child. Either God was happy at his
creation or was the Devil. We wouldn’t know.
And I… well…. ;-(
