A year back, on this day I was born. But I didn’t cry like all other newborns. I looked around me; everybody present in the hospital room was crying. I then shifted my gaze to the person who gave birth to me; it was nothing but a cold body that had taken its last breath an hour back. I reached for its hand which was heavy and icy-cold. I touched it with my trembling fingers, but they remained senseless. I felt someone’s hand on my back and turned in that direction; her face was vague. I blinked once, but it remained hazy. She said something, but her words didn’t reach my ears. She grabbed my hands and took me away from the body, the dead body that gave birth to me.
I was born, yet nobody was happy. Neither was I.
Today a year has passed since my birth; the memory of that day still haunts me. I lost someone, who gave birth to me. It took me a few days to get over the denial phase and realize what or who I had lost. I cried that day; I cried my heart out. I closed my eyes and didn’t want to open them again. Those were the darkest days of my life.
A month passed, then two, and then a couple more; I learnt to stand on my feet. I smiled for the first time when the first drop of rain touched my face. I wanted to step outside, wanted to see people. The twinges of loss and emptiness became less and less painful. I wanted to be happy again.
Last week, I was out for a stroll, and suddenly it started raining. For the first time in the last eleven months and twenty three days, I didn’t stop myself. I lifted my hands and felt every single water drop that touched my palms. I took a deep breath and the fresh watery air filled my nostrils. I looked up and closed my eyes as the rain drops washed away my dried tears.
“Look at her! how can she look happy? Isn’t she the same girl whose husband died a year back? Shame on her!” the voice jerked me back into the harsh reality of my life.
I lowered my head and walked away with hurried steps. How could I forget that I’m a widow? I don’t have a name or an identity anymore; I’m a widow, who was born a year back after her husband passed away. I have no right to look happy anymore.
– Chirasree, a dreamer.