It was I who suggested the bed be moved. To the other room, ofcourse. It hadnt been here ever anyways. I dont remember what had prompted me to keep the two together in the same room, apart from two dissimilar albeit important looking chairs that always seemed occupied.
So the other room looked practically bereft of soul, while this one seemed too crammy all the time.
The other bed, yeah. My mother sleeps on it. I dont say in it, because I dont want you to imagine an oak panelled mattressed paradise- extra large sheets dangling off in the corners: like you see in the advertisements.
It was a portable folding and when I look at it long enough, it seems so hastily done. And thin crust of a bedding languishes over it, trying to cover the faults.
It was my idea.
But then you have no idea how little trifle things can matter. Suppose you lose a pen that you absolutely love. And then you stop being anywhere near the pen stand. You cannot bear it. And then you get this prickly feeling that you’re being watched everytime you cross it. So you thrust it behind a row of books, from where it wouldnt glare accusingly at you.
Such an analogy holds true even when its about people. We think something has been lost between the two of us. It hits us suddenly and abruptly. So everything stops mid air. And as time passes, the accusatory sword hangs between us and it becomes harder to strike a conversation.
Keeps on getting more difficult until even the thought of opening your jaws set shut to induce a ‘hello’ seems life threatening.
The room looks so spacious now that I have had it moved. I had no idea it had this much of space with such potential.
Imagine the momentous changes a little extra space can bring you! It can even make you wonder if the umbilical cord is absolutely necessary.
But then, it meant more than I realised. As I looked into nothingness where the bed was previously positioned, right beside me, I felt sad.
It was too metaphorical for me. I had formally announced that my mother and I were going to sleep in different rooms. She had nursed me through a bad bout of headache for the past couple of days and saw to it that I was never in neglect, as I would keep myself later on when she was gone back home to my Papa and brother. I would wake up in the middle of the night and realise that she is too far over the edge and I’d give her a nudge, our beds being close.
And now,I felt like I was shutting myself in, shutting her out. But how can that be, I would never do that.
So to make myself feel better, I said, ‘Mom, that room has the cooler no, you’d sleep better.’
She nodded her head empathetically.
I wonder why mothers are like that. Can’t they see through the deceit their children put them through? Why are they so oblivious to the faults of their flesh and blood?
I got up and hoisted one side of the folding and pulled it towards the centre of the room. Not exact centre, but you get the point. I did that to cover the clues to the crime that had taken place there.
Aparajitakumari's Blog 