One Last Time

By Anoushka Poddar

“Are you sure you want to hear this story?” The children clamour into my lap and scream into my ear. They are certainly very enthusiastic. And so, I begin. “It was the summer of 1935, if I remember correctly. I was sixteen and young and foolhardy and she was the loveliest person I had ever seen. You should have seen her eyes, she had such a gorgeous pair. A dark black the colour of the night, and tiny little winkles at the corner of eyes that would dance whenever she smiled. We were madly in love, your grandmother and me, and couldn’t wait to get married. Thankfully the both of us were from respectable families and our fathers agreed to the engagement, and just like that, we were to marry as soon as I finished my studies.” I look down at the children and pause. They stare up at me with big eyes full of wonder and excitement, and Rani giggles and clutches at my clothes. A smile splits my face. Oh, Roshni, my love, my light, if only you could see them now. Your grandchildren, all five of them. They look so much like you. “Life with your grandmother was serene and peaceful. Every morning I went to work at the government office, and she stayed home, managing the house. That is, until we found out that she was pregnant with Pari. It would be an understatement to say that life turned upside-down. Everything suddenly seemed so much brighter and so much more marvellous, and I seemed to find wonder in the smallest of things. We were happier than ever, yet a cloud of darkness loomed over the horizon. Pari was born some time afterwards, around 1945. She was our pride and joy, and you wouldn’t believe how naughty she was. Rani, your mother used to eat dirt earlier. she really doesn’t look like it now, but she was such an imp.” The children giggle and huddle closer towards me. Purv sits up and asks, “Mummie always tells me not to eat dirt but she ate dirt herself?!” His eyes are wide and he looks like a character from one of those animation shows he forced me to watch . What was it? There was this weird blue alien who had a magic pocket? I gave up on trying to piece together the name. “Yes, indeed.” I answer, my smile growing wider. My cheeks actually hurt when I smiled, that was a new development.

“Before we move on, does anybody know what happened in 1947?” Rohan raises his hand so fast that i think he might have gotten whiplash. “Yes, Rohan?” I say, hiding a grin. “Indpendance of India!” He calls out proudly. Being the oldest of the bunch, he knew a lot more than the others and positively adored to show off. “And..?” I prompt him. “Uhhhh…” “The Partition.” “Oh.” “See, when the British left us, they wanted to deal one more, critical blow to us, and so, they divided India into India and Pakistan. We lived in Karachi that time, and when the violent waves of the partition raced towards us, we packed our bags and rushed towards the train station. I was panicking, trying to contact relatives staying in various parts of India, trying to wrap up finances, trying to find train tickets, all while shoving all of my things halfhazardly in my bag. It was the middle of the night, and Pari was crying so hard that we were afraid that any moment we would be gunned down and left to hang on the streets. Your grandmother, however, my Roshni, she was so calm throughout. While I was busy trying not to implode, she was busy methodically throwing essentials into her handbag, which I always used to think was too big, but it seemed the perfect size now. Without a word, she picked your mother up and started singing to her in a soft, hushed voice and she calmed down almost instantly. We rushed towards the train station in the dead of night with the headlights off and all hands trembling in fear. Trains available at midnight were scarce already, but this sudden decision led people to cram onto the trains in packs. Some were sitting on the roofs, some were desperately holding onto metal rods outside the trains, while some were running, trying to catch up to the moving train. Immediately, I picked up Pari and we ran. We ran like we’d never run before. I grabbed onto one of the metal rods and hauled myself up into the crowded train. It smelt of despair, and pain and sweat and blood. In the chaos, a little child had been left behind, not more than 4-5 years old, and Roshni’s eyes caught onto her like a fish on a hook. “Roshni!” I had screamed for your grandmother, but I was too late. Our eyes met, and for a moment, all that existed were those unending voids of black and the void between us. Grabbing the crying child with one hand and throwing me her bag with the other, She managed to catch up just a bit, and she could have hauled herself up too, i know it, but she couldn’t have done it with a squalling child in one hand. she gave me a final smile, one that crinkled around her eyes and turned the whole world upside down, and handed Suman to me. The train had left the station. And I was alone.” I turn to stare at the crowd listening eagerly, hanging onto every word. Madhur looks like he might just cry, and i gently stroke his head and launch into the ending. “Your grandmother was the loveliest person I ever knew. She was an inspiration and was and has always been my guiding light. She chose to save a stranger when she could have saved herself. I still follow by the Ideals and examples she has set for me, saving strangers in exchange for a sacrifice. I must admit it, I wanted to hate Suman when she first came into our tiny family at my brother’s house in Mumbai, but I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. She was the last legacy of my Roshni, the person she gave up everything for. I couldn’t just let everything go to waste, now could I?” Suddenly, Pari bursts into the room and herds all the kids into her arms. Half of them are in tears and she wipes their moist cheeks with the corner of her dupatta. Our eyes meet and she offers me a tight smile before calling Suman into the room. Both of them stand together, and I see Roshni in each of them. I see her in the curve of Pari’s lips, the shine of her eyes, and I see her in Suman’s defiant eyes, the straight of her back. Ah, my Roshni, I can almost see you now. “Time to go to bed, my dears!” Pari trills and the children groan. “Go say goodnight to Dadaji before going home. Rahul chacha will drive you home.” Each and every one of them come up and hug me, soft and warm, and I struggle to sit up straight. “Bye, bye dada!” They chorus as they leave, and I give them my special smile as they shut the door behind them. The moment they do, Suman bursts into tears and I allow the tiniest sliver Of sadness to claw its way into my heart. The whole night I hold both my children close to my heart in that bed as they cry on my shoulder, soaking my hospital gown. The grandkids think Dadaji has just gotten a cold. My kids know that I won’t be making it past tonight. It only takes a few more hours for the old man’s heart to flatline. My Roshni, my Roshni. You are here.

By Anoushka Poddar