Dear Daughter

Dear Daughter Part 2

The rickshaw came to a halt. I looked into my purse to find money to pay the driver. I sighed at the sight of every unnecessary thing I had stuffed inside. From a toffee I had tossed inside a week ago to a bunch of used tissues wrapped in plastic, my purse was an absolute haven of mess. I finally found the exact amount I had to pay him.

The rickshaw driver collected the change and went his way, as the vehicle left a trail of dust behind. I turned around and there she was, Taramma, our help, who'd stayed with us throughout all these years, no matter how rough they got. In a way, she'd stayed longer around here than even I did. My mother had hired her for help just a few months before I was born. 

It was an accepted fact in the household that she was as much responsible for raising as was anybody else. She'd taught me a lot of things over the years. Once, I had made a mess out of applying mom's lipstick. She'd helped me clean up and on my request, neatly applied some on me. I've had my little arguments with her, sometimes, over the brinjal she frequently cooked, and at other times, over her trying to discipline me.

Now as I watched her, I realized, she still looked at me with the same amount of affection that she always had. Her face instantly glowed with the brightest smile I'd ever seen after a moment or two. That's when I realized that my old friend had actually grown old. She looked healthy to me but the years that had passed were clearly visible on her face. But beyond those wrinkles, she was still the same - innocent and sweet with the kindest eyes I had ever seen on another human being. And believe me when I say that, I've seen quite a lot of human beings all my life.

She rushed towards me dragging her thin legs along. She was holding a yellow hibiscus in her hand for the morning puja. Even after all these years, she had not changed one bit. She came over to me and immediately picked the luggage from my hands despite my refusal to hand them over. On the way from the gate to the door, she constantly complained as to how slim I'd become.

It's a fact well-known that the measure of love people have for you is directly proportional to how disturbed they are by the weight you've lost. And so I knew, that Taramma's love for me hadn't wobbled even a bit despite the distance. As we got closer to the wooden door that stood between me and the rest of my family, I wondered if Taramma was the only one who's opinion of me hadn't changed over the years. I couldn't help but dread the thought that maybe she was the only one who had the same amount of love for me even now.