How Can I Pay Back?

By Oishi Pattanayak

My attendant showers down gallons of her maternity over my melancholia, addresses me "Maa"; pats, kisses and smiles of hers makes my pain go numb like the limb of a failed racehorse mid-ground. The stranger in the park once rubbed my ribs, fed me water, stroked my hair until my body felt better. Sickness goes away by one third under care. That little child in the metro the other day, and how he complimented my dandy spectacles!...that made my day; and the rapid vitiation of sundown tiredness vanished in a whoosh. God whispers abracadabra in my ears,"I've sent a Messiah for you!" everytime, as my dog jumps on my lap and maneuvers her gaze through my tears into the deepest nerves of my eyes. I will never get over what happened, but her touch still reconnects me to that biological strand still remaining with me. My neighbor sister, only six, taught me the acceptance of death as a natural thing, in a summer afternoon, her soft voice sparkling fire inside my brain―and my

bargains to win back what I lost came to a halt. Uncle resting his hand on my head and assuring me of my education, wellbeing of parents and whatnot takes me back to the Batman-and-Commissioner-Gordon-scene from the classic. A visit with just a packet of biscuits, and my furry friend's instant jump up to my breast to snatch it away, munch it, his whirling around me in euphoria, licking countlessly on my face until I embrace him...I feel the world there! All the babies I have fostered, rescued, loved and lost have become my guardian angels; they put me to sleep every night with their aerial tails wagging on my wall as I gape at these clones of Messiah here, right with me. My friends parenting me in the hardest of times; my long distant lover placating my anxiety attacks like a patient monk; my Guru pulling me up from the hell-hole, rebuilding and reforming my debris; my family loving me a bit more as I recover; the pet chaplain from the other part of the globe I met on Facebook, and her everyday kindness on me….How many can I count? How can I ever pay them back?

Gratitude is an ocean. I'm but the baby Nemo; stupid desperation to cross the ocean will only get me lost.

By Oishi Pattanayak