<p>‘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?”</p>.<p class="bodytext">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.</p>.<p class="bodytext">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.</p>.<p class="bodytext">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.</p>.<p class="bodytext">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.</p>.<p class="bodytext">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!</p>.<p class="bodytext">“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.</p>.<p class="bodytext">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.</p>.<p class="bodytext">She is no more now. And I feel relieved that I could give a healing touch to the injury before it was too late.</p>
<p>‘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?”</p>.<p class="bodytext">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.</p>.<p class="bodytext">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.</p>.<p class="bodytext">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.</p>.<p class="bodytext">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.</p>.<p class="bodytext">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!</p>.<p class="bodytext">“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.</p>.<p class="bodytext">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.</p>.<p class="bodytext">She is no more now. And I feel relieved that I could give a healing touch to the injury before it was too late.</p>
