Echoes of Abandonment

I saw an old woman, infirm and frizzled, wandering to and fro as I stepped out of my house. Her face wore sadness like sunscreen. With tattered clothes, desperate eyes, and dead hope, she lay there: lost.

People were busy, minding their business. Some were talking vigorously to others, whilst the rest were engaged in a reckless and tempestuous affray. The lady kept watching them with eyes brimming with tears. Delicate things, you know.

Her falling and hitting the torrid asphalt didn’t shake our conscience. Meanwhile, someone came closer to her and asked if there was anything bothering her. But it seemed as though she was deaf. And factually so.

He accompanied her to his home for tea. But she didn’t take even a sip of it. Almighty! How would he ever be able to forget that melancholic face of hers? He talked to her constantly, but no word came out of her mouth. And, unfortunately, he knew nothing of her.

Many thoughts came into his mind. And he came to the point of taking her outside - perchance, any of her relatives would pass and take her home. Dusk was about to set. And nobody came. Nothing whatsoever.

Meantime, he heard a voice swiftly thrown at him, hearing hardly anything but ‘Chirghar Mohalla.’ The ‘Mohalla’ that is 4–5 kilometers away from his home, and he was relieved. At least, he was left with some hope with regards to the residence of the old mother. He got up and took her to the ‘Rickshawala,’ to whom he asked for dropping her to the very mentioned place.

But the most shocking reply the driver would utter was that ‘Rickshaw’ is not for ‘old dolts without a penny,’ and he drove away hurriedly. It had put so heavy a weight on his heart. Anyway, he managed to take her step-by-step to another ‘rickshaw,’ who agreed to take the lady and the benefactor to the destination.

As they arrived at the place, the most difficult job now was to find her belonging - her home. No sooner did he step out of the rickshaw to search for her relatives than a heavy ‘dooph’ - a sharp sound—came from the ‘rickshaw.’ It appeared that she had dozed off. No grave concerns till then.

He asked a shopkeeper if he knew her. Upon which, he began abusing her: “Again this ‘old-imbecilic-freaky lady’ by our door…..”

The benefactor was confused by the farrago of freaky thoughts imploding his mind. The thoughts that had big interrogative marks on them - where is humanity? Where has it gone?

He tried to wake the lady. But she appeared lifeless. He tried hard to bring her to consciousness, but nothing happened.

And then her children turned up all of a sudden, and a huge crowd gathered around the rickshaw. He got a bit nervous now in that the same people might blame him for her condition. And he left the place with the hope that her children were now there to take care of her.

Exhausted, he walked towards a tranquil spot nearby the ‘Mohalla’ and calmed his breath for a few minutes. Eventually, on his way back home, he came across two young men conversing, which revealed everything about the old mother.

It still gives him chills as he recalls this:

“You know the lady dislodged from her home by her children?” one man asked.

“Which lady?” another inquired.

“That—who is seeking alms off the street nearest to the shop,” said the man anxiously.

“Got it! the shopkeeper who often ‘abuses’ her?” asked another.

“Yes, I’ve heard on the grapevine that she has ‘passed away’!” said the other.

And the benefactor left the place - hopeless to the bone.