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‘Are you not Sukanya’s mother, Seetamma?’ I asked her impulsively as we came face-to-face at the supermarket. The icily sharp look she gave startled me, and even more her bitter-sounding reply – “No! I’m Sukanya; can’t you see? How is it that you don’t even so much as recognise me?”
I could see streaks of pain, contempt and despondency in her eyes as she walked away from me despite my meek, apologetic mumblings. As I stood stunned by this sudden jolt, it struck me that I had deeply hurt her pride. I cursed myself for my thoughtlessness and lack of sensitivity towards one who had been a close childhood friend, though I was seeing her after many years. I spent the rest of the day pondering over the reason behind such a drastic change in her once charismatic and sportive personality, making her look haggard and far older than she really was. I felt terrible that I had hurt a good friend of my tender years, for which I couldn’t excuse myself.
The ripples of disturbance within me were so great that I almost immediately contacted her close relatives to find out more about her. What I learned from them deeply saddened me: she had been tricked into marriage by a person of questionable standing and character. To make things worse, she was tortured by her dowry-hungry in-laws. When her husband died of a self-inflicted malady, she was thrown out of her house along with her specially abled son. Cruel fate had snuffed out all her dreams, leaving her physically and mentally shattered.
So, it was in this state of hers that we met, and, with one ignorant swipe, I had demolished the tender memories of our childhood days.
I resolved that I had to meet her somehow and undertake the extremely subtle task of making amends, thereby giving her some consolation as a true friend. This was, however, easier said than done. More than a year passed during which the thorn of guilt remained stuck deep inside me.
My prayers were answered one day when I saw her at a wedding. The moment she spotted me, she quickly turned her face away. This did not deter me. I slowly walked up to her, and as she turned towards me, I asked, with all the earnestness I could muster, “Are you not Sukanya’s younger sister, Sudha?” That did it! My words instantly lit up her face!
“Can’t you make out that I’m Sukanya herself, you baboon!” came her cheerful retort as she thumped my shoulder with her fist. We had already been transported to our childhood days.
The next hour saw us both engrossed in knowing more about each other, during which I did my best to balm the wounds of her misfortune with concern and kind words. We parted like good friends.
She is no more now. And I feel relieved that I could give a healing touch to the injury before it was too late.