The Lady in White

She would look directly at your face.... a blank look... and it perturbs you. Is it the cataract that gives it a gleam or do I detect a film of tears in her eyes? The white that she is wearing has faded away but she prefers it that way ‘coz her younger daughter gave it or was it the elder one.. I don’t remember, but she does!! Even the color of her hair matches.. a dirty white... makes me wonder was it ever black ? I wonder how many folds does that skin on her hand have? The cheekbones seem to protrude out her face.. a pale look.. so morose! Its only the eyes that catches your attention.. the unvarying blank look in them....!

The earliest memories of my grandmother (“mamma” as I generally call her) is that of a lady with a hunch.. wearing white, with a red border when grandfather was alive and after that other borders, specially blue/ green... worn in the “colloquial bangali” style. Ask her for any help and she would be more than obliged to do it for you. She would climb the stairs almost 10 times in every two hours.. a task that none of us in the family likes to do except her. So if u have to get anything from upstairs, relax!...she would get it for you. Others say that she must have been very good looking at her times but I don’t understand the logic behind that statement. What beauty could that face ever possess..? The jutting chin and the cheekbones hits your eyes first. The face is weird...sans teeth..Nothing special at all...
She would irritate the hell out of you with her babbles. She has achieved several titles over the years (of course by me n my bro.. who else can do such honour!)..1st it was “water- tank” since she would constantly ask us to drink loads of water.. then it was “question-bank” to describe her never-ending questions on each n every issue, relevant or not. There were many more.. and the current update is “president” since she passes her time (and also ours) by worrying about the entire world. I wish our leaders had possessed a fraction of her skills!!
Energy..never ending. I would get tired looking at her energetic ways.
What would make her happy? Work... specially cooking. As the family story goes she once got annoyed with my mom since the latter would do the major part of kitchen-work all by herself..! The moment my mom came to know about it she gladly did what she had been wanting to do herself for quite some time.. she handed the entire kitchen work to my granny and busied her days with “addas over coffee cups”. Everybody considers my granny to be the ideal ‘saas’... not at all fussy. (I wish I would get one like her).
When we were kids she would carry me on her side, take my brother on his tricycle and go out for stroll in the evenings. Ask her whom she loves the most amongst all her grandchildren..she would name me n my bro. Push her to be more specific and she would gladly say its my bro since he is the 1st child n that also a male one. She never seemed to mind my knowing this fact (not that I mind).
And when its storytime ..dare you stop her! She is always ready with her “desher golpo” ..stories n gossips from her past life in the then-united Bangladesh. These would include dacoits..to Raja-Ranis to ghosts. She is a great believer of ghosts. Says she had heard them sing too though has never seen them with her own eyes. She can even recite how ghosts talk. And worse is when she talks the colloquial ‘bangal’ language. She says that when she dies she would return as a “bhoot” to prove that ghosts exist. (Grt joke isn’t it?)
She used to love movies like anything.. would tell me that she would be satisfied on her death-bed if I let her see an action movie!
But now things have changed.. the movies no longer appeal to her. She is busy in her own world of fantasy. Everyday she seems to age more. Her length has reduced to half. The bones seem to be so weak. There are hollows on her face.. the eyes once so cheerful, has now sunk back into their sockets. She tries to hold back onto the past... but all in vain... Her world is now restricted to her clothes and her youngest son. She is always busy counting the number of saris and blouses she has. You will feel she is mad.. but this madness always comes with old age. Now she cant afford to walk that much.. gets tired easily. She generally sits on a chair beside the window, wearing an old sari, as she feels she must keep the fresh ones for the time when she goes out.. who dares to explain that she hardly goes out of the house ?

She simply sits there with her eyes focused on something that none of us can see.. I wonder if she can see it too! She would look up sometimes to see if anybody is watching her or not. But nobody does. All of us are so busy and its not our fault ( is it?) if she speaks the wrong things at the wrong moments and we loose our temper! Then her eyes would fill up with tears and she would rub it off with the corner of her sari and continue to stare at us. And that would make you feel guilty.
But are we to be blamed if we don’t have time to spare with her.. obviously not. Life is so fast.. how can we afford that? Or can we? After all what shall I talk with her. Whenever I get ready for my college she stands and looks at me.. then passes a comment. A stern look from me stops her. Never mind if this comment had come from my friends..but not her..! She is happy to see the family get-togethers... never mind if she is left out. She misses her husband--my grandfather. Often cries out to him and asks him to take her away with him..but he doesn’t seem to listen. She, unlike us, never hides her loneliness. Hide it from whom actually? Nobody is actually bothered. So she remains in the house... day long... all alone. She has, with her, the memories of the past 85 (or 87 maybe)years with her. She remains engrossed in her world of memories... good and bad.

And so she sits back again. The blank look is back. Sometimes she would look up hoping to get a look of recognition from somewhere...and she still keeps up that hope ..that someday someone might recognize her and return a bit of love that she earlier had so earnestly distributed amongst others. She presents the perfect picturesque model.. and yes she is still good-looking... all in white...a sad look in her eyes.. the tears which unknowingly roll down her cheeks, going down as they traverse along the cheekbones, and ends at her thin soft lips.. some go beyond. The years have not stolen her soft look..a look so full of love.
She is so absorbed that she hardly notices me watching! Watching and thinking if this is the future that all of us are heading towards. She waits for love to come her way.. she waits for her final day! Wish I could tell her that she need not look far for love... its there with all of us.. we just dont end up showing it. Wish I could tell her that for me-- she is my lady and will always remain so!