In a worn out cottage amidst lush greenery a battered mother is scrubbing dishes
She is scrubbing as though her life depends on it
Scrubbing to forget the poignant memories of a lost family
Scrubbing hard as if that would put the pain out that is burning her body
Her face- meek and austere
Her once foreboding eyes, now distant and lost
In the dimly lit theatre this French film is being played
I watch you watch it from the corner of my left eye
I watch a single tear slither down your baby soft cheek
Child-like wonder in your glistening eyes
I know I can’t keep up this masquerade for long
“Time,” they say “is transient”,
Often heavy, flowing and strange
I am yet to find out how deceitful she is
Two years later, however, I’ll return here, to this very empty theatre
On a grim December morning when the harsh winds blow
Barefoot and numb and blue
My heart will throb with painful, washed out memories when I will gradually recollect this day
How my left arm is soaking up your warmth as my eyes trace the course of the single teardrop
Embarrassed at being caught you smile ruefully,
I shake my head ,
An indulgent smile playing on my pursed lips
Here I can delve into the needless intricacies of the rest of the evening
How we take a walk around the neighbourhood decked in lights
How the Christmas festivities became a warm patch in an otherwise somber memory
How the steam from the mud tea cups fogs up my glasses as I watched your face gradually disappear from my dwindling vision
But let’s leave that there
Two years later on that eventful morning
I’ll will walk back home from this neighbourhood
My body – an abyss of broken questions all unanswered
The city tired and sleeping after last night’s festivities
Now the film will continue in my dimly lit room
The same woman will scrub,the same melancholy music will play
And on that day I will not get distracted from the rest of it
I will remember how she scrubbed with anger and mock vivacity
How she dusted her apron with a steady gleam in her eyes,
How her children won’t come back
But she will set the plates anyway
On that day two years later I’ll realise why that tear had slipped down your face distracting my train of thoughts
Today however I don’t know
But you are so beautiful now,
Subtitles and foreign films be damned
I’ll be looking at you anyway.
Written by Aindrila Banerjee
