I want to sleep for a long time. Dream good dreams, happy dream, soothing dreams. This is all I ever wanted from life. Some happy dreams but night terrors made it almost impossible for me to sleep without dreading them every night. I hated them forever, ever since they started when I turned seventeen and had just been rejected from the college I always aspired to attend. Well, this wasn't the only reason that triggered the nightmares probably. As I clearly remember my father crying by my bed and walking out of the room despite me calling to come back. Then I'd wake up to an entirely empty house. He wasn't there when I fell asleep, he wasn't there when I woke up but I knew I saw him and these stress dreams disrupted my ability to differentiate between dreams and reality. I often wondered if something I saw in dream was actually a reality and what actually happened was merely a dream. I'd like to say, as a 29 years old adult, I am much better now. I don't sleep until I hear birds chirping outside at five, shaming me for staying awake and yet doing nothing resourceful. I wake up after another five hours and feel ashamed at for being late for work only to repeat the same next day. Oh, and by the way, I work as a library technician, a job I whole-heartedly hate and considering the library was inherited by my father from my grandmother, I can't get fired. I make use of my father's patience and annoyance and I am sure one day I will be successful in getting myself fired. Toady isn't that day, today I am on time. Seven minutes before N. us lake library opens to public. It's a funny name to say once you learn it is pronounced the same way as anus and I only bring it up when I want to break free from a group gathering that isn't going my way. People won't ask me to stay if they are too weirded out by my choice of workspace. A library and that too named 'anus.'
"As happy as I am to see you here on time for once, you'd be disappointed to know Aayat is leaving." My father, Mr. Sharad Kuma said before the door closed behind me. A fifty years old man with huge specks and greying hairs sat on the rolling chair behind a huge wooden desk. I wasn't surprised by this revelation. Aayat is my best friend from school and past few years had been like constant thunderstorms for her family. I just feel like a failure friend from privileged majority.
"She's been talking about moving for a while now. They are going to Australia, for now."
"And you won't miss them?"
"I will but I will visit. They deserve better than some undead patriots asking them to prove their love for this country. How can you love a country without respecting its people?"
"That's the issue with this term. Patriotism. Love for a piece of cloth overpowers love for another human and politicians thrive on it." My father is a pro-democrat and anti-fascist, did I tell you that? Anyways, you know now. I am proud of him and pretty sure the thoughts are not mutual. I have been quite a mess my entire life and blamed it on this judgemental society. As an only child of single father, I was forever mocked as 'the girl whose mother ran away.' I think it could have been worse if I had a single mother instead of a father. That would still make my mother an immoral bitch but they could say it to her face. In this case, my father isn't immoral, he is just sad, lonely man whose wife ran away. It was fun when I was under sever years of age and could tell other kids them my mother did not run away but turned to a witch and curse everyone who doesn't do as I tell them. Oh, how many free plushies I collected that way, and toffees. Papa always talked about ma as a fairy who came into his life but couldn't stay because, God wanted her back where she came from. So, she left a piece of herself with him, that's me by the way. When I started watching television and made friends at school, I realised what being taken by God means. She was dead. I wasn't sad, just embarrassed to be the only one believing my mother was head advisory of God or something.
"Papa, I had a thought. How about I go on a trip to Australia, to visit Aayat and her family."
"Rekha, she hasn't even left yet. Do you mind waiting a few months after they are gone and settled? Which reminds me, you haven't settled that problem with Greensea publishing house. They send me an email with bold subject 'incompetent witch at technician desk.'"
"They really did? As-"
"And they specifically mentioned that you suggested them this quote, for the subject section. What is this behaviour, Rekha? This is not good for our library. People deserve good service from us and to provide that we must maintain good relations."
"I told them I'd fix it after my mental health break which lasted only three more days."
"You believe that was a professional thing to do?"
"Yes. I was stress eating. Mental health is important to be productive in long run."
"That's not what I am talking about. You dismissed them when you should have referred them to me or Aayat or Jonny. You can't just state your thoughts and end the call."
"Why not?"
"Because others won't understand your inner turmoil. You need to explain them."
"I did not have the energy."
"Then you should have transferred it to me." He did make a good point but he also doesn't know what it's like to want to be sleep and never wake up. My father is a supportive man you know. He just believes me too much and it makes me believe lesser in myself.
"I should have behaved better. I'm sorry papa." His eyes softened. I love this look on his face because this is when he says something like-
"Do you know your mother loved hiking. She used to say, it's best for health and makes you realise 'lost time never comes back' is just a corporate agenda to overwork the employees." We both burst out laughing. I agree with this thought of my late mother and I am sure Benjamin Franklin must be rolling in his grave knowing his famous quote is now used to push seven years old kids to excel at academics. Or was this the intention ever was?
"I wish she was alive a little longer. I have no memory of her."
"I wish so too. She would be so proud of you, my bravest girl."
"I am older than that, papa. By the way, I was wondering ma was born in Australia so I can go and visit her home." This pulled him up short. "I know I didn't want to but that was before, when I was young and my wishes have changed. I tried so hard to ignore them but I want to see her home, know more about her."
"You know she was disowned by her family, right?"
"I know. It's been like twenty-eight years since she died, I am sure they will at least let me inside the house where she grew up."
"You are underestimating the power of castism, Rekha. If they wanted to meet you, they would have contacted us before your mother died. If her death had given them some sort of sentimentality, they would have reached out. There was enough time." His voice was rigid. I don't often get to hear it but guess today is my day. I don't care their families hate me. I am not going to bond with them so they can shed some tears and have redemption tale to tell their pure-blooded generation.
"I don't care, I don't want their approval. I just want to visit."
"And it's a bad idea."
"Why is it a bad idea?" I said louder than intended and several of others glanced at us. It is a weird feeling when you turn off the ignition at red light and can't restart when its green again and there is a trail of other vehicles behind. I need to get out of here. Maybe I am just not meant to be on time for work so I turn and sprint out of the door. Papa did not call after me, he did not follow me either. He may be angry but, so am I.
I know it won't be a fun conversation to have later when he finds out but according to me, its everyone's responsibility to unhear their parents, however much you love them. So, I booked the flight to Australia for a week later and collected everything I had that belonged to my mother. The photographs of us when I was unrecognisably young, her silver necklace. It is still clean and shiny, I couldn't bear for it to fade away either. Among some other stuffs were a diary, watch, some greeting cards and an empty box which once held her engagement ring. If you think I lost it then, you are right. I did. When I was six, I found it while my father was going through his old belongings, I spotted it and convinced him to give it to me. I wore it for all two hours, showing around before losing it in the toilet. Another thing I remember from that day is sad, frustrated look on my father's face as he desperately tried to retrieve it using auger. As I grew older, he gave me most of my mother's stuff. I don't know what else he has left but I no longer ask.
Just like any other day at work, I wasted another day yawning and wanting to cry but not being able to at the same time. At about eight at night, I heard the footsteps on the stairs outside. Instead of continuing to go up, they stopped and I knew it was going to be a long talk but I was determined. I opened the door to my father looking sweaty and defeated. Was he crying? Maybe he was. Maybe I hurt him again. I held his hand and guided him inside the house. He knows the map of my flat yet I had to let him know something, I don't know what exactly.
"I booked the flight. It's for Thursday next week. Don't be sad, please." I said.
"You know the address?" He said calmly.
"No." This was the only thing I did not have by the way and I was going to ask.
"Do you know names of any of her family members?" Well, two things. "Anyways, I shouldn't have tried to stop you. You are an adult and you deserve to know about your mother more than I can explain."
"So, I can go and you won't be sad?"
"No, I won't but I will be concerned and if you have to talk to someone when you are there, just call me."
"If I get robbed?"
"Yes, you can call me then too."
"If I fall in love and had to get married immediately?"
"Just put me on video call when you sign."
"If I murder someone?"
"Alright now, joke's over. I have to tell you something and you can be as angry as you want."
"What?" I can feel my nerves stiffen already.
"When you are there, tell your mother, I miss her."
"What do you mean? Does she have a grave?"
"No. she is alive." What the actual hell? Was he lying to me all these years? Is this a joke? But he won't joke about this, not about my mother. Am I dreaming? "I don't know how to say this. I know you are confused."
"Just stop being the master therapist papa. Tell me. Is she not dead?"
"She is not. I don't know where she lives now but I know she got married eight-ten years after she returned and, she might even have a family now. I just know where her parents, your grandparents live."
"Are you sure they are alive?" He thought for a second.
"No. I'm sure they are."
"Why did you lie to me? You shouldn't have lied."
"I didn't want you to hate her."
"Why would I hate her? Because she left me?" If written words had speaker, you'd hear the sobbing cracks in my voice. I am embarrassed how my voice gets when I cry but I am so irritated by the presence of my father, I want him to hear it and suffer.
"I thought I'd tell you when you were old enough to understand but you got so hurt by everyone saying that your mother ran away and I couldn't let it be the truth you have to live with. So, I said what was easiest."
"This is such a bad excuse. I have been old enough to hear the truth for decades. Yes, I'd be upset she left but then I won't be here calling you a liar, that you are and, feeling stupid for not seeming brave enough for you to tell me the truth."
"It's not you. I was just a coward."
"Why did she leave?" I wipe my tears off. His face looks so annoying and I look mostly like him. What a tragedy.
"We were not even twenty when we had you. My grandmother was the only one who supported our relationship, she insisted we finish college and gave me the ownership of this library immediately afterwards."
"It was stupid idea to have a child before finishing college."
"We were stupid and your mother had medical complications so we couldn't get abortion."
"Wow, now I sound stupid."
"You are not. She tried to be a mother to you but she couldn't forget the fact that," he tightly shut his eyes as if mustering the courage to speak. "I killed her brother." Hit after hit. This has to be a dream.
"It's a dream. Just a dream."
"It was not intended. It happened in front of a crowd of people in Australia and he attacked me first so it was open and closed self-defence case." Now I see why he preferred I believe my mother was dead than telling me the truth. Man is a bloody murderer. But it was self-defence. But he killed. I might kill someone as self-defence. But he lied to me.
"I don't know what to ask first. How did you kill him? Why do I suddenly understand why ma left us? Do you regret killing him? Or was he too bad?"
"I wish I had let him kill me. I can't say he was bad, he just hated me. He got stabbed accidentally with a sharp edge. If I was careful, it could have gone other way." He look hurt and in any other scenario, I'd have hugged him but he looks weirdly similar to a murderer at the moment. Well, anyways. "Are you okay?"
"I don't know. I mean, when I think about it as a cinematic moment in my head, I does look cool. Must be traumatising for you though. I just want to be clear here, I'm not angry that you killed someone." That did not sound sane. "It was self-defence. You should not have lied to me. I am a mature person papa. I don't even know what to do now. I can't be angry at mother for leaving, I can't be angry at you. I'm such an understanding daughter. My name should go down in history."
"You have been more mature than either of us. I always trusted you and I know you'd make a better life for yourself despite everything that happened."
"I'm 30 years old. I did a degree solely so I could get hired at my father's library. I can mess up as much as I want and you haven't fired me yet. I don't have a goal other than what I'm supposed to eat tonight. Congratulations to you papa for believing in me because I've given up. You did your best but maybe a child understand the distance parents build with them and trust me, this is a lot of distance." I waited for him to disclose more life altering facts about his past but none came so I left out the front door and finally took the breath that actually went down to my ribs. My loath is not exactly directed at anything in particular, it is at everything in general. It's a weird thing, I wanted to visit the home where my mother lived once but now I that I know she's alive, I don't want to go. She must have other children now, won't she? After two hours of strolling around in the same two streets where I practically knew the name of every street vendor, conclusion was made. I am visiting my mother. Should I even call her mother, now that I know she never mothered me on wish? I will decide once I am on her doorsteps.
I did not go to work the next day and the day after that and the day after. There were several calls from my father but I let it ring. I talk too much to realise other one might be saying way too less for our mutual healthy relationship. I stubbornly stayed with Aayat and her family while they stayed in shade of my lies that I was really anxious to live alone. It wasn't entirely a lie but of course, was built to keep my father from apologising. Maybe in these few days he will go through twenty bullet point on why to never lie to your daughter about her mother. I did take a break from not talking to him once to ask the address and names of my grandparents or whatever they were to me.
Thursday is here and I am ready to go with one duffle bag and a water bottle. I slept at my place last night and did not sleep at all. It was a fun time to just roll of empty bed and fool brain with a few seconds of unconsciousness before jostling awake with a sudden panic in my chest. I call them fun times because fun times seem to pass fast and want these midnight panic attacks to go away as well, except that, they genuinely care for me and believe I actually have fun with them. Anyway, they were no nightmares so that's a win. There was a card on door this morning that said 'safe trip' in my father's handwriting which reminded me of my other failure at learning to form civilised scribbles. Sun is struggling and shouldering through the clouds and I appreciate its effort but those clouds look thunderous. It was the smallest car ride of my life, in a blink I am at the airport and another blink, we are landing at the airport of Melbourne. More than eighteen hours went by so fast, like politicians pass through public safety protocol. Weather is much better here compared to August of India, less warm, less moist. I hate how good it looks and feels.
"I have to get to this address." I asked to the first taxi driver that approached with hope my English sounded like English to the driver named Gabe with sandy blond hair. He replied with a minute 'sure' and I was relieved to know I was just another brown woman and not an alien who talked in codes and beeps.
"It's cold here. Where I am from, India, it's like hell and devil has left for hill station." I don't know why I do this, only papa and Aayat laugh at my jokes. He looks confused even though I can't see his face.
"And what are winters like? God come to hell for a snuggle beside hell fire." So, I misjudged him. He is cool. We both laughed and chatted half the way until realization hit, why I was there. If I go there like this with a duffle bag and shabby plane hair, my grandparents might throw me out. They might still throw me out if I go there like a lost fairy since my father killed their son. I don't even know if my mother had any other siblings. What if they plan a revenge? I can pay Gale extra to wait outside for a while, just in case. But first I have to disguise myself as civilised human of society, that I am but don't look like at the moment.
"Can you drop me off at a hotel of cheap range hotel nearby first and if possible, wait ten minutes?"
"Sure. Do you want to stop for a meal as well? Just so I know the hotel has food service nearby."
"No, I packed quite a lot of bags of chips and juice. Thank you." You'd be surprised but I eat a lot of unhealthy shit for the daughter of a book store owner whose prime interest is politics and diet. We arrived at a small hotel after twenty more minutes and I checked in and was out, showered and fresh really quick, leaving most my stuff behind except a pouch with passport and stuff without which I might not be able to survive in case apocalypse fall upon this world all of a sudden.
"Ready to go?" Gale smiles from the driver's seat as I take my place back in the taxi.
"To the original address and my possible nightmare."
"Is it that bad?"
"I wish I could tell you everything. I usually tell every drama of my life to my cab drivers. I think a few of them knows I am bisexual as well, probably none of them know what it means."
"My son is bi too. I didn't know what it was until he told me. You haven't come out to anyone ever?"
"Didn't feel the need to. I never openly dated anyone. None of my relationships lasted more than a few weeks and why straight get to be the default sexuality?"
"I'm sure someone will come round and also someone who understand your identity. You don't have to come out but someone from your family might want to support you. I knew my son was not straight exactly and I wanted to support him so I waited two years for him to tell me himself."
"What did you do when he told you?"
"I fumbled like a kid in exam room and said, that's so cool Mat." I couldn't help but laugh with tears forming up in my eyes. I don't cry that often, trust me. It must be the change of weather or the fact that I was about to meet my mother, who I thought was dead.
"I never told this to my father even though I never felt unsafe about my identity with him. I just learned he has kept many secrets from me for ages and I am glad I kept this one"
It was a silent ride after that but comfortable surprisingly. I felt myself almost loosen up until we entered the lane of homes that looked like suburb area from what I have seen in movies. It was beautiful yet wrecked my nerves. Gale confirmed the house number and the car stopped outside one house with a little garden and triangle top. Which was the structure of most houses around. It might be because he sensed my nervousness, Gale offered to stay out until whenever but I had taken enough of his time and mental peace for the day.
So, this is where Keshav and Avni Shah lives. Name is right in front of me so they are definitely alive. I have no idea why but I called my father.
"I am here." I half breath, half voiced. I just have to know where mother is and leave. Maybe steal something of importance as a revenge but also, I don't want to go to jail. And just like that, I was planning revenge and none of the ideas ended me outside of prison. Maybe I can table it for a while. Now I feel braver. Imagine the look on their faces when I tell them I'm their long-abandoned granddaughter. One of them may even get a heart stroke. They have to be that old right? You are such a bad person, Rekha. No, I'm not. I don't want them to get a heart stroke, I'm just guessing their health state according to the age they are at. A young boy, barely out of teens opened the door. He could be my cousin, he looked brownish or tanned I don't know. Maybe my mother had another sibling.
"I am Rekha, from India. I was hoping to meet Avni Shah and Keshav Shah."
"You mean grandpa and grandma?"
"Unless they are your parents." Shouldn't have said that. He didn't look offended or laugh at all, just rolled his eyes and went inside the house. A few minutes later he came back out and said, "They don't know any Rekha so you should go and show your face. They are old."
"I get it. Memory goes a little mushy at this age." I was lucky this guy was ignorant. He guided me to their room but didn't go nearer than ten meters of the room.
"I'll be around. Close the door on way out." He nodded and left. I wanted to ask his name but he was very fast. The room was huge and smelled of medicines and flowers. Stinky. An old lady laid on one side of bed and had transparent liquid dripping into her veins via tubes and needle.
"Who are you?" I turned to see an old man with very white hair and moustache standing on the doorway. He looked confused and ready to protect his territory.
"I am Rekha. You don't know me."
"How did you enter my home?"
"Your grandson let me in. he told me you don't remember much now a days. You know, due to age and all. I mean you look good for your age. That's not what I meant. I sure you are not that old either. How old are you? No. that's none of my concern."
"Woman, what are you talking about? I don't have any grandchildren. I am calling the cops." That was a surprise. Was I just fooled by a kid robber? How would I know, I am new here. Who knows how long these people have been getting fooled for. That's more embarrassing.
"No, don't call the police. I'm your granddaughter. Your daughter Reet, she is my mother or was my mother. She came back here. Do you know where she lives?" Old man looked deader than a dead body at funeral, standing there with his mouth agape. Somewhere deep down, under the last membrane, my heart did a little flip of joy. I hope he's not dead though. "Are you alive?" Bad choice of words.
"I am not going anywhere before your father. He killed my entire family."
"He just killed your son. Which is a huge deal too. He should not have." I said holding my temper as I need to play nice to get what I am there for.
"I lost my son and my daughter."
"But she came back to you."
"Broken and in pieces. Because of your father."
"I'm sorry you suffered so much but if this is any consolation, I hate my father too. He never told me he murdered someone. He had me believe my mother was dead when she was not."
"How the tables have turned. That smug little man once stood before me and said we were bad parents, he questioned our parenting for protecting honour of family blood. Said he will be a much better father. See, now his daughter stands before me saying she hates him." He is so irritating.
"He destroyed a family, then proceeded to destroy his own. I would rather be your granddaughter than his daughter."
"Sharad Kumar's daughter is no one to me. I cannot see you as my family."
"He's put me to so much shame. I don't know why I was born. I wish I could once meet my mother and tell her what a huge mistake she did." He went over to the bed where old lady was still asleep, hopefully and sat on the other side.
"When you see her, tell her we miss her. Tell her, her mother won't be here for long so, come by someday."
"Yes absolutely. Good idea. I don't actually know where she lives."
"I want to see her once before I go." You were not going anywhere a few minutes ago. "I have everything here, all a man my age could ask for. But not the life I want."
"Do you have her address?"
"I have this house, a regular nurse. She must be coming in any minute now."
"And address?"
"Yes, the address. I don't know where she lives." Is this a joke? "Somewhere in Coffs Harbour." That's better.
"What part exactly?"
"I don't know." That's enough.
"You know you are one of the worst persons I have ever met. My father did not kill your son, he defended himself and if you had taught your son any better, he'd be alive and you'd know your daughter's address because she would send you post cards or for birthdays and festivals. He lied to me and I get to be angry at him for that, you have no right. To be honest, you still have much better life than what you deserve." The lady on bed moved and opened her eyes. "Hello grandmother. See you in hell." I was about to storm out with attitude of a lion, leaving her confused but she sat up with no grimace on her face.
"You will be reincarnated as a filthy snake." She said with whatever life she has left.
"And you will be the first on my dinner list." Then, I left. There was nothing more to say and after that little speech, my heart was much lighter, until I remembered I don't know where my mother lives still. How hard can it be to find her in the population of a little over eighty thousand people? I have her decades old pictures and jewellery that she probably doesn't even recognise anymore. I searched the flight to Coffs Harbour and next one leaves in three days. I can't wait that long. I'll lose my mind here. Not to mention the extra expanse I can't afford without chocking myself for next few months. I was a little coward calling my father before, I won't be that again. Let's figure this out. How about a bus? Or a train? Oh, this sucks so bad. So, a train leaves every day to Coffs Harbour, takes thirty-one hours! But I love trains and if I'm here, might as well give myself a little sight-seeing trip. Except that, now when I've started the train, my head is nothing but a children's colour book with unrecognizable doodles. With the pace my heart is racing, it can outrun this train.
"I am so nervous." I said with a failed giggle to the young woman sitting beside me. She has straight black hair and a lip ring, giving the appearance of one of those popular girls on Indian teen drama and I love the vibe. I hope talking to her can maybe make this journey less stressful.
"First time on train?" She asked and I sensed a little bit of tremor in her voice.
"First time on train in Australia." Everyone is either busy on their digital devices or books or have ears blocked with buds. I wonder if their lives are so much more peaceful than mine. What sort of clutter are their brains filled with?
"I'm so nervous. I just said it, I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it. I get it. I have intense travelling anxiety myself."
"Oh." There goes my trip support. I hope she's okay though. The seats exactly opposite to us is empty and I' less happy about it than I should be.
"But I'm happy to go back home."
"Do you want to take the window seat? If you want to look outside."
"Thank you." She sighed and we switched seats. "What's your stop?"
"Coffs Harbour. And yours?"
"Same."
"Visiting someone?"
"No. Just going home for a while. I am a photograph blogger."
"That's so cool. I wanted to become a photographer when I was fifteen but that dream lasted for a month until I decided to become engineer."
"Engineer? That's cool too."
"It is. I am not an engineer either. I work in a library as a library technician."
"Sounds cool."
"Not really and you know that." She smiled at last and nodded before looking back out the window. It's not even an hour on this train and I am already checking time every other minute. I jumped to the opposite seat and now we were face to face, just not facing each other. I tried hard to focus of scenery passing us by and immediately felt tired.
"I am so annoyed." I said out loud and more than a few people glared at me. "I don't know why I'm doing this. There's no point. My name is Rekha by the way. If you still want to talk to me."
"Gina." She extended her hand. "Why are you stressed? My anxiety is kind of taken over by curiosity."
"It's a long story that I can't tell you. But I will. A part of it at least."
"I am listening."
"I am here to meet my mother. She left when I was two and I just learned she was alive all this time. This is probably a bad idea. I mean she obviously won't recognise me. I get she was hurt, so am I and I'm going to meet her."
"How will you introduce yourself?"
"Hello ma, I am your daughter. Remember me? Oh, you can't, I don't look two anymore."
"That would be a good start."
"I don't know why my father lied to me. Do I look like I can't handle the truth? It's because of him, I'm so nervous or I'd walk up to my mother, give one of the coolest one-line response and leave as if I just spared her life. Now I feel like I'll crumple before I even reach there."
"It's a big deal to come and see someone who left you a long time ago. My friend's father left when they were five. Their mother took care of everything and then he returned with a new wife and two sons three years ago pretending they were in some happy family movie who could get along after what he put them through, visit on Christmas and all."
"What did they do?"
"My friend had an anxiety attack and their mother called cops. It was a huge drama."
"That's reasonable. I don't know, this feel so weird. I haven't had a good night sleep in a long time, my heart is always heavy and ready to sink and it seems like I'm experiencing this life from one corner of the world. I see all these people living and interacting and then here I am by myself trying to figure out what to do with myself. It's like this world is moving, everyone is walking by me and I'm stagnant. Watching them from afar."
"I do remember when I had such feeling every day for several years. It's scary and it feels like it will never go away and I know it's easier for me to say but it will pass."
"It's been quite constant for a while now. It might just be my life." I totally pulled down the vibe of her trip home by my sad little stories. But she shared with me we so are on the same page. I wonder if she wanted to hear more.
"You have a cinematic life story. Do you know anything about your mother? Like how her life is now?"
"I have no idea except that she is married. She might have kids or divorced or I don't know, dead. I don't know where she lives in Coffs Harbour."
"You don't?"
"What if I'm unable to find her?"
"That depends on how fast you give up." Giving up isn't such a bad thing, is it? I haven't given up on life but I've given up on living and being happy. Or as I say but I do look for reasons to be happy. Every moment is a quest for one little thing that gives me joy. Sometimes they come by and nothing is more disappointing than not finding any at the time when they are needed the most. When I was twenty-two and use to wake up with nightmares multiple times a week, heart pounding and unable to move, there was no reason I wanted to stay alive. Just grim dark fog everywhere. My father spotted my depression. I didn't even live with him then yet he somehow figured I was not okay and when I was okay, I cried for all those people who live with it and have no one to see them. During that time, I read a lot of stories of people with anxiety and depression. The ones who suffered, not the ones who were cured. It made me feel less alone but also less hopeful. I was watching all these people suffering for ages, not getting any help and I believed that might be my life too. I accept I got help but am I better? No. I was for a while, until I wasn't and I'm not still. I don't know if I want to be better anymore. A happy me seems so different and stranger from a me that waits and wait for little moments of happiness that she knows are never going to come her way. She knows and still waits. I don't know how different my life would have been if I was never bullied for not having a mother, not looked down upon by literal adults. What if this world was just a little better? My demands are unending and I can hear them as annoying whines at times. I can't help being the source of them either. Once I start with these thoughts, I don't know how to get back to reality. It's too much effort to pull oneself out of the zone that feels almost permanent. I know once this trip is over, that's where I have to return. My cluttered head and thoughts with diminishing life.
"You think too much."
"As I've been told."
"I use to too. Still do sometimes."
"Look at us, two anxiety ridden souls searching for solace in each other. I am not going to make you feel good, trust me."
"You already did. You look so distraught. I genuinely feel confident and protective. Have you tried searching on socials? For your mother."
"No, I haven't."
"So, what was the plan once you reached there?"
"I had no plan yet. I was going to think about it once I get to the station. Not a good plan, I'm aware."
"It's okay. I can help you." If I could I would make out with her right here. "If you know her name, we can look up some websites."
"I don't want to trouble you. I'll try them first and ask you if needed." It bloody hurt. I wanted to puke and pass out at the same time. My fingers trembled over the search tab as I typed 'Reet Shah'. Several Reet Shah profiles on linkedin, several on Facebook and Instagram. None of them look like my mother. She is a ghost. Then I realised, her parents don't know where live which means she did not want to be found and if someone was to stay away from previous contacts, first thing they do is change name. She married someone, maybe she took his last name. I don't know why I'm doing this. This is too much effort for someone who doesn't even care. Hell, but I want to see her. I want her to see what she missed. Then again, meeting her as myself won't be very convincing for that either. I dozed off with the thought and next I know the train is staring from station in Sydney and some old faces are replaced by new ones. Gina is not on her seat but her bag is there and to its left sat a middle-aged woman, her head deep buried in a book of nerds or psychology, as some might call it. I tried my hand here once but apparently, I am a bigger nerd, psychology books do nothing for me, I need to read three hundred pages on an adult struggling to build life at the age of thirty-five, concurrently managing stress and anxiety, dodging off triggering scenarios that have direct obscure relation with their childhood and going to sleep every night with impending panic attack.
This lady look quite sophisticated with huge pair of glasses, suit and strand of hair falling on her face as she sped past pages after pages.
"Please don't stare at me." She said without looking up.
"Sorry. Where is that girl? She was just here." If we are talking, I might just ask.
"Gina is in the bathroom." She still, did not look up and I couldn't help but feel the urge to be the reason she ever leave the sight of her book.
"I've studied psychology books, just for fun. They are cool."
"They are not cool. They are necessary." She said before looking up to stare directly in my eye and I was ready for sprinkles of disappointment for rest of the journey but what I saw send my consciousness to heaven, sew up wings on the back, then send it to hell, burn them down and fell back on earth. It took me more than a minute to link us both again and I physically pat my heart to calm down. "I know it can be a lot to try and understand other people's behaviour. It takes toll on me too but I don't let it stay stuck inside my head." Apologies for bad behaviour mother but I heard none of that. I spent my life staring at her pictures, I can't be wrong about this. She looks the same, older but same. She is so beautiful and pleasant. I can't like her but I don't dislike her either. We are just two strangers having a chat on train where I am pretending I don't know her and she doesn't know she missed a period because of me.
"Right. Can I know your name?" I asked.
"Reet. Reet Anderson. I work with troubled children and teenagers, try to help them through pressure and trauma." I'm going to puke.
"That's very generous of you."
"It's the job of my interest." Oh mother, you art of an angel. "It is difficult to feel for everyone but yourself. Takes a lot out of you but I've learned to live with it. What are your aspirations with life? I can sense a little confusion here and there."
"You have no idea. There's confusion everywhere. But it's going."
"You need to restrict yourself. Your brain is cluttered."
"Again, you have no idea."
"I know I don't." She went back to her book. Surprises did not end there as next I discovered that she was none other than mother of Gina herself. I couldn't gather my thoughts, also I had no thoughts to gather. I did not know where to start telling her or should I even. She had a perfect life. They looked happy, just like me and my father until a week ago.
"You are a psychologist, right?"
"Yes." She answered.
"I need to know how to forgive my father for lying to me. Hiding things mostly."
"Depends on what he hid and how it affected your relationship. Do you believe you can forgive him?"
"I can forgive for what he did but not that he lied to me. I don't think I can. I haven't talked to him in a week and this has never happened before."
"Maybe you are still processing the truth. This is not really the time and place for this. We can have casual chat but I'm not a magic wand, I can't help you within this train ride."
"No, I know. It is great to meet you though. I see you and I see myself. Don't you?"
"Every woman sees themselves in another woman, however different we are."
"Rekha's mother left her when she was very young. We can help her."
"No Gina." I don't think I'll be needing that help anymore. "I think I will rest on that a little. I don't know if I'm ready yet. And after all, now we are friends, right? I can stay at your place while I reconsider my considerations."
"I'd love that." Gina seemed genuinely excited but there are clouds of doubt an annoyance on her mother's face. I can live with that for a few days.
"I knew you won't. I mean you people don't look racist."
"This has nothing to do with racism. I am Indian myself but, we can't let a stranger in our house." You are not even trying mother.
"I let you in on my secrets and you can't let me stay at your house? I hate to admit it but that's reasonable. I appreciate the offer though."
"We didn't exactly offer. You invited yourself."
"Okay mother." Shit. "Mother anti-Teresa." I tried to laugh it off but her face is more disappointed than before and I'm not ashamed to admit, I am scared. "Look, I'm not as annoying as I'm today. It's just the nervousness and stress."
"I understand Rekha. Don't mind my mom. She's a bit protective when it comes to family."
"Then I'm glad you're not part of our family or you would have had a heart attack before forty." It was not even a joke. "We are not trouble makers, just to be clear. No criminals in this circle here. My father was always encouraging of resistance, resistance against school bullies, resistance against mean teachers, then resistance against bigoted political party of college and then resistance against state sponsored oppression. My father was once arrested during a protest, along with many others. I was so scared but he said 'Rekha, if we let them get away with the laws that threaten our fellow human, then there's nothing left of us than bones and flesh.' We don't want to be zombies, right?" I said and sensed I talked way more than I intended to. Anyways, it's not like she recognise me. I focused out of the train for rest of journey, or more like away from constant glares of my mother. I can't tell if she was still upset. But why would she be upset with me? I'm supposed to be upset with her. I prefer sleeping on long journey's but in this moment, I can't. What if she vanish, is my concern. When on the station, I couldn't help anymore and hugged her. This hug felt so cold and I felt no hand hugging me back. I want to cry. There are all these people passing us by, all strangers to me, Gina is fascinated by the crowd enough to fill her camera with the pictures of them, still a stranger to me and then there is my mother, closest yet so far. I grew up as if she was never away and now, she stood there, just as another stranger. I could feel myself fading away in background, like a character whose part was over. I did not want to go there again. I need to feel important for this world.
"Come home." She said, suddenly dragging me back on stage and what could I say, I hate how much I love her but there is one thing I cannot do and that is, let her decide when I get to be the protagonist and when, a face in the crowd. It was my life after all.
"Why now?"
"I recognise you." Her voice is barely a whisper and I want to scream, I don't blame you. But being the way I am, I said, "If you don't say I turned out way more saucy than you were in your days, then this was all just a waste." She chuckled and her face turned weirdly sad. The way it goes when we try to hold back crying. I wished she just cry. "We should get out of here." Gina said in most sophisticated tone I've ever heard and I suddenly saw her as not the girl from train but, my sister. Which also makes, wish of making out with her part, a little weird. But no one here is a snitch, right? We got out of there and ended up at a restaurant, which was my idea stated a bit more fiercely than intended. I drank an entire glass of milkshake.
"Should I go?" Gina asked.
"No, please stay. There not much you don't know anyway." Her presence made my mother uncomfortable and me, more confident. What now?
"I'm sorry I left. I didn't know where my life was going and I couldn't stay. I tried."
"I know you did."
"I understand if you hate me."
"I don't hate you. I'm an adult now, I can clearly see myself where you were then but, what I can't see ma, is leaving my daughter and never coming back or trying to contact her and making an entire new life in a distant land." Was I too mean? I don't care. It is all the truth.
"I did not leave you or, I did not mean to leave you. I left everything I knew, everything that reminded me of the life before. I didn't think I could live let alone be part of someone else's life."
"How can you say that when I'm not even blaming you for leaving. I just want to know, did you not miss me? Ever. Did you ever have a thought where I was?"
"I did. All the time. I can't start to tell you how much it broke me to leave you but I had to. It was the only way to let you grow in a healthy environment. I was very close to my brother, he turned out a shitty person and I started to hate him but we were all young and I wanted to believe he will understand if I make him understand, that he will not be our parents. I hate him even now that he's dead and I hate myself for letting it affect my relationship with Sharad. Every person who belonged to my past had to be let go, for my own sanity. I tried to make a life here, for myself, then I met Gina. I fell in love with her before I fell in love with her father and world was better again. I missed you but didn't have the courage. I just couldn't do it. I tried. I couldn't come back."
"I know you tried. You gave birth to me and stayed for two years. I know you tried and I feel nothing but sympathy for you. Papa should have told me the truth, I would have reached out sooner. I just feel so distant from both of you. He made me believe you were dead. What father do that? And you say you were not brave enough to talk to me again and no mother should say that. I'm sorry, I scared you. I'm sorry you couldn't accept that I had the right to be at least a little angry at you but as a daughter who saw her mother nothing less than an angel ever would forgive her no matter. I'm sorry you both were such good people but had to face so much bad. I feel for you, I really do." Tears were evident in my voice but they were more evident on her face and it sure made me look the bitchy daughter.
"I can never make up for what's gone. Come home, I want to try."
"You know, I use to imagine you holding me in your arm, rocking me like a baby even when I was an adult. Once a while that feeling return when I just want be held, by you. But now I sit here and I want you to know, that those hands of invisible air make me sick. I can't stop loving you but I can stop wanting you. I'm happy you made a good life for yourself this is not my home and if you want your daughter, I am easier to find than you were." I turned one last time to Gina before leaving. "I wish I had more time with you. You are a delight, sister."
I don't know if that was the right thing to do but I'm sure I looked cool and this is all that matters. And surprisingly, I don't miss her anymore.
It took me a few more weeks after I came home, to start talking to my father. I can never forgive either of them for what I can't but I needed to stay for the one who stayed.
My doorbell rang seven hours before I wake up. It was three in the morning and I was glad it did or I'd still be choked deep into the nightmare. After a lot of time space for whoever it was to return in case they regret coming, I opened the door. It was probably just the nightmare or lack of sleep but there was my mother with papa and Gina on either side, standing on my doorway and next, I was in her arm sobbing like a child who was scolded by their teachers that day. She was late, too late and I don't know if I can ever forgive her but she was real. A mother I idolized my entire life until I stopped and saw how full of faults every human is. My parents were too. I was still an independent woman who hated her life half of the time but now I had the option to say no to my mother's psychoanalysis and go to another therapist. My life was at season two and I don't mind waiting a while to see where it goes.