CRASH INTO ME ↻ on halt

doh.

THE NEWS OF Geeta Nowak's death came through the local doctor's letter. cream coloured, rough textured, slightly yellow at the edges, folded over and sealed along the corners, the envelope. The piece of old paper travelled from the main city to the old village where the family resided. It took the letter two days to mark the passing of a mother, and reach the family. Antoni Nowak cried for hours after reading the saddening words sprawled on the paper. It read:

Nowak,

As I write this letter, my heart feels heavy, so heavy- to the point where I wish to mourn for weeks.

Geeta Nowak has sadly passed away. She was an amazing woman, a brave fighter but the disease was stronger. I could not save her and I am incredibly sorry for that. I feel guilty, though I know none of us could have done anything regarding the disease.

She died a peaceful death, without extreme pain. She asked me to tell you that she loved you and your daughters dearly. Time being twelve sixteen in the afternoon, third of september.

God takes the best ones, always. My deepest condolences.

Doctor Artur.

Antoni had the letter in his hands when he came to his small cottage, to aware his daughters of their mother's passing.

Anjali and Mohini sat on the old, rusted bench in the sunflower field around the corner of the main street. Their mother loved sunflowers, she adored the color yellow, for it was so bright and joyous.

On hearing footsteps, Mohini glanced up and smiled, but seeing her father walk towards them with bloodshot eyes and a frown on his face, she set down her book, placing a bookmark at it. Anjali, who was dancing and attempting to catch butterflies looked at her father and grinned. She did not notice the saddened look on her father's face.

"Papa!" she exclaimed, "Mo made us an apple pie today, it's still baking in the-"

"Sit down, Anju!"

Mohini, noticing the disheartened look on her father's face, shushed her younger sister. Anjali frowned, not liking her sister's rude behaviour but did not complain. Albeit she was already planing to give Mo a week of silent treatment for being rude.

Antoni sighed, he had thought he would drop the news immediately, but in the light of Anju's smile, he faltered.

"Is everything okay, papa?" Mohini countered.
He opened his mouth and then closed it. Blinking, he tried again, "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?"

"Yes, papa! It's warm and cozy today," Anjali squealed.

"I heard on the radio it was going to be sunny this week." Muttered the elder daughter. The community radio, was a loudspeaker set on every street of the village. It gave out daily news and weather reports at six thirty in the morning. She waited for him to continue, she was not sure of what her father was hiding but it was certainly not about the weather. "Papa?"

"Geeta's dead," he croaked out before his voice broke, "I got a letter from the city hospital." He handed the letter to the elder daughter, and dropped on his knees.

Mohini did not have it in her to read the paper thrown at her. She felt nauseous, like somebody was choking her and she could not do anything about it, her hands and legs were tied up in shackles. She could not hear anything, except for the ringing in her ears.

Anju, though was still young to understand the concepts of life and death, understood what her father meant. Her mother used to tell to her, "Anju, life is a cycle. Once birthed, you grow, you learn, you earn, and then you die. Death is an escape, immortality a curse. Remember that."

Though she had promised her mother she would stay happy and cheerful always, she just couldn't. The news of her mother, her best friend dying hit her to the core; like an electric shock. She felt paralyzed, like her knees gained weight and she could no longer stand, and so she fell.

-

GEETA NOWAK'S FUNERAL was held the next day, people from all over the village came by. The entire community was grieving, Gerta was loved by all. Even Monika, the lady who disliked her cried, hard.

You never really know the value of someone until they are gone. Maybe it is the truth.

A week after, Antoni received another letter, but this one contained good news. He had got an approval from The Times Magazine for an editor. In New York, far away from this village, where his worst nightmares lived.

Henceforth, he walked back home and commanded his daughters to pack up. He did not care if they wanted to leave. He did and that was all that mattered.

"But, papa-" cried Anjali, she did not wished to leave her mother's only remains and memories.

"No, Anjali. We are leaving tomorrow at five and that's final." he'd say, wearing a stern expression.

Mohini, did not wish to disobey her father's words so she packed all her things without any tantrums. She then, went to her sister's side. Frowning, "Why are you packing mother's dress?" she asked.

"Because I do not wish to leave the only remains I have of our mother, unlike you." she sassed, placing her tiny arms on her hips, striking her hip to the side.

"Stop being so rude, Anjali. It's very unlady like,"

"Oh? You don't care about mother! We should not leave,"

"Anju-"

"No! I do not want to hear it. You and Papa are so mean to me, Ma would be disappointed in you-"

A loud smacking sound echoed the small room. Anjali held her cheek, and glanced up at her Mohini from the ground where she had fallen previously.

Mohini wore a strict expression, "Do not talk about her, move on." and she walked out the door. Anjali was shocked, her sister was never like this. She would, sometimes, scold her but she never raised her hand at her.

Mohini slept on the mat in the living room that night while the youngest cried herself to bed, holding the teddy bear her mother gave her on her second birthday close to her chest. She felt extremely lonely.

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