“Life is not a bed of roses, but life is beautiful.” The quote that I was asked to draw a wall chart when I was in the second standard.” But, after spending forty years of my life, I am still looking for the beautiful part mentioned in this quote.
7 o’clock in the morning and like every usual morning; I got up, switched on the TV, and was sipping my bed tea. I switched my mobile phone on (I usually switch off my phone after entering home); an automated message, “37 missed calls.”
Nothing more was required to sadden my morning when I figured out it was a friend of mine; we admitted her mother in the hospital night before after she had a severe panic attack and turned violent.
Before calling my friend, I don’t know why and how, but I was already having intuitions that her mother is gone. And, I was true. When I called him, he was sobbing and he could only utter one word, “I lost her.”
I rang my office and updated them about my absence for the day; cremation ahead. It was a tragic moment; my friend lost his father a few years ago and now he lost her mother. Since his father’s death, I have seen her mother behaving like an abnormal personality.
She used to cry, shout, abuse, throw things, and hit others. But, this stage of her came after several months of depression.
As far as I know, I had never seen her mother smiling after his father’s death. Before turning a widow, she was more likely ‘Mother Teresa in the neighborhood – a person always in limelight for her charitable nature.”
Be it any beggar, homeless person, poor or deprived human being; she always helped everyone. She was known for her philanthropic mentality.
Be it any hour of the day, she was always ready to help. But, when she was hit by the adversities, I have seen her crying for help. My friend’s wife; she is a masterpiece, I must say. Right from the day when she became a member of the family, I had never seen her talking to my friend’s mother.
My friend was in Dubai. On his request only, I used to visit his home. Her mother once mentioned to me about the ill-behavior of my friend’s wife.
“Dear son! Please tell this to my son that from last one week I am eating, sleeping, and peeing on the same bed sheet. This was not what I expected from my daughter-in-law.
This was not the treatment I expected from my son after giving him my world.” My friend’s mother asks me to deliver this message to my friend.
Tell my son to pay his installments of mother’s feed that he owes to me. I never expected him hiring a nurse for me and visiting me like a guest.
I know he got dreams, but he is the only dream I have ever seen and said goodbye to this world in his presence is the only dream that I am going to die with.
Ask him, why is he treating me like an old ladder kept in a dark storeroom, covered with spider webs and lizards’ poop; a ladder whom he used to reach where he is now. This is not the price I expected for my blood that he sucked through my breasts.”
I sensed the pain in her voice. I swear to god, with every finished sentence of his mother, I experienced the same feeling of losing everything that she might be feeling at that time. The burden of expectation failures was getting heavier.
I shared this whole discussion with my friend and perhaps that was the last day, he and his wife showed me some courtesy. I was disturbed with my friend’s behavior, however, I was least concerned about that b@#%h. I had a strong verbal argument with both of them, and I never visited their house again.
After a few days of this incident, one day, I was not feeling comfortable and I was seriously worried about my friend’s mother. I decided to visit her. I thought even if I failed to see her in person, I will still inquire about her health from the neighbors.
From the neighbors, I got to know that my friend’s wife left that house a few days ago and she is not yet back. They told me that they have not seen the old lady from few days. I was sure that something had happened. In the presence of neighbors, I hired a locksmith.
After entering the house, I saw his mother lying on the floor. Seeing her lying on the floor, brought tears to my eyes. I admitted her to a hospital and called my friend. On his arrival, I handed over everything to him. Without saying a word, I left the scene. And, next ill-fated morning, I had an update of her death.
I feel like she was waiting for her son to come before she leaves this world. And, I was true. After meeting her son, she died.
I was thinking, why do we people expect things? Why it hurts when expectations are not met? Why do people feel bad, when they get cheated by the person they love or trust the most?
I have heard many people saying that when we expect things, they never happen. Perhaps this was the reason why his mother felt bad and lost her life.