The Miracle

Love entered my life, miraculously. It made me believe in miracles.

I hate Diwali fireworks, because you suffered so much. I have felt your body quivering in my lap, despite the dimmed lights and the warmth that I tried to envelope you in. You refused to budge out from your place under the bed, despite several calls for the Pooja. And then, we turned back after performing the rituals, with a silver plate in hand, to find you seated right behind us. You had been a participant all along, and so sweetly offered your forehead for the vermilion tilak. Overcoming your fears to be with us was a miracle.

You waited silently for us, to wake up in the morning, or finish dinner. And you always knew the exact moment we did so, despite the fact that we were not in your visible range.

The dignity that you showed in your physical suffering was a miracle. You did not pass urine or stools for four days, because your fractured ribs restricted movement, and you were determined not to mess up my house. You did the same again, after an enema was administered, but you waited till we came down three floors, and reached your spot under the tree. A human being could not have shown that kind of restraint.

You, who hated to leave the colony where you were born, travelled by train on a 18-hour journey, to accompany me on my new posting. You were hit by motion sickness on the wheels, but the calm dignity and your determination to be with us was a miracle.

I desperately wished for a miracle to save your life, when you started vomiting blood. A dog’s body is supposed to carry about two and half litres of blood. Even the doctors did not know, how you threw out 7-8 litres of it, all the while, waiting for your Dad to reach. You managed to take a 180 degree turn, to face the bathroom door, in that drained out state, because I spent a long ten minutes inside. The separation was unbearable for you. Then, why did you leave?

We can never forget that final soul-to-soul conversation with your Dad…

“If you are in pain, child, go. Don’t wait for me…..” at 3.55 pm.

My message to him at 3.57 pm said,

“Destiny overtook a mother’s will. We lost our child….”

The power supply in the 3-storey building went off for a minute, as if in obeisance to a divine spirit passing away.

We remembered your restlessness when your Dad was leaving after his last visit. You were extremely upset, refusing to let him go. Did you know that you were seeing him for the last time?

The lights in the bathroom miraculously switched on and off, whenever I was shedding tears alone. Were you trying to reassure me?

 

“Don’t cry, Mom! I will always be there with you. Just look around and see the various forms in which you will find me.”

I feed every hungry dog that I can. I have raised naughty kittens in a small apartment, despite objections from the neighbors. I look deeply in the eyes of every child that says ‘AAMMMAAA’ in the same manner as you did. It is all in the hope of another miracle, of meeting you again.

Your existence on this earth was a miracle, darling, and we were fortunate to be your partners in the journey.