For You PM

A plethora of emotions flowed through Prathima’s mind, superficially numbed by the sight of her husband’s still body lying in the dreaded ice box, his eyes shut as if in deep sleep, face calm and serene. Prathima stared at him tears flowing down her face willing him to wake up any second, disbelief and denial of the present creeping in to protect her traumatized mind from the brutal blow of reality. Hushed voices around her mingled with those swirling within her mind until finally she was unable to differentiate between the two. She wished that she could grab hold of both her young daughters and disappear into a shell, insulated from the external evidence of tragedy.

When dusk turned to night, sounds of deep slumberous breathing all around her, Prathima lay eyes wide open on a thin mat on the floor knowing that sleep would continue to evade her for many more nights to come. Her pillow already damp with unrelenting tears, mind devoid of hope and reason to live, she suddenly felt the weight of her daughter’s palm resting on her shoulder, whether as a gesture of reassurance or as a need to maintain comforting contact with the surviving parent. The touch instantly pierced through the painful layers of despair, sorrow and hopelessness, evoking a sense of being, of the need to exist to witness the welfare and happiness of her daughters, of a meaningful tomorrow…