Yellow

The normalcy of things isn't always a thing that gives us the solace we need. The last time I met Maa, I wanted to ask her to tell me a random memory from her childhood. Any piece from the past that she could scrape off the past would be great. "Maa..." was the only word that escaped my mouth. I was never the granddaughter who would ask things like that. That week too, I stopped myself midway.

The folds in her skin were darkened by the wounds she earned every time she visited the hospital. The brown patches had increased over the past few weeks. The afternoon sun was bouncing off her clear, pale skin. She looked luminous. The dull brown patches on her wrists and feet seemed out of place - like wrong strokes on a canvas. They didn't belong there. She didn't deserve them.

A few strands on her forehead were now silver white. The recent hospital stays had been long and tiring. She had had no chance to paint them black. Three days after she was discharged, I had pointed at the silver strands and teased her, "Now you look a little a grandmother, Maa! The silver hair suits you well. Don't paint it now, okay?" "The silver hair looks nice on me? Really? Okay, now I will let all of my hair become like this," Maa had answered back with a lingering smile.

The last time I met Maa she was complaining about how this winter had been hard on her. "I feel too weak for anything this year. I feel like have been sick forever," she said. After a while, she rested her head on the armrest of the sofa that served as a makeshift bed in the newly refurbished living room. That was when I noticed that the room was warmer and airy than the other room Maa slept in at night. Maa woke up after a few minutes and asked me about work. I told her about the classes I taught the week before. Maa asked me if it was hard having to manage college early in the morning and then working till late in the evening. "You were sick last week weren't you? Your mother told me you had fever. Are you good now?" Maa had asked. My head was buzzing and I felt warm and tingly and cold all at the same time. My fever wasn't entirely gone. "I am a lot better now. But I want to go he early today," I had answered.

In silence, Maa and drifted back to our own train of thoughts. It felt usual. There was nothing to feel weird about in the comforting silence. I had denied Maa's offer for lunch. It was a rare day for me to deny samosas. But that day, I just wanted to sit close to Maa and read my book.

Now as I think of that day, there are only block of memories that I can put together. There are so many gaps which I will want to fill in with well-versed dialogues that never really happened. Memories are a tricky place to be at. They are not full. Never really. But Maa, today was a slow fire. It ached. It hurt. It broke. It rose in smoke in all shades of grey and Maa it was weird.

One moment I was smiling thinking that now Baa and you were not alone anymore. In another, I remembered how you had so many dreams and wishes besides Baa that you had left undiscovered.

They brought in the colorful shawl you had lent me in a particularly chilly fall afternoon and set it to flames right next to you. In that moment, the warmth the shawl gave me that day vanished and I choked on my own breath. It hurt.

I always told you you looked lovely in all colors. But Maa, today they hid your body in yellow piece of cloth and I almost didn't recognize you from afar. Maa, I don't think you look good in yellow.

I don't know.