a cough and an ache

She woke up with a cough, and an ache in her bones. They creaked as she propped herself up and sat on the side of the bed. She turned her head from side to side, cracks sounding, as the stiff muscles tried to move where she directed them. Her hair was rough, and scratching her face. Her eyes were watering, crusts on the edges, and all around. Sunlight streamed in, illuminating the sparse room and the empty bed. It was beautiful, even in this small space. She was old. Her husband had died ten years ago. Her children had grown up. One was married to a man who worked as an accountant in a company that made cooking oil. The other was working in an office. He had just started. Birds were drowsily chattering. It was early. They hadn’t fully woken up either. She planted her feet on the ground and hobbled over to the bathroom. A quick splash on her face, it was good to save water, and after relieving herself, she was out and ready. She walked out of her room, the kitchen in front of her. Nibbled on some leftover roti from last night and knocked on his door. She heard a rustling from inside. He came out, running his eyes. “Is it time?” “Haan, beta.” Ok, give me five. She sat down on the chair, one of three, and waited. It was thatched, some pieces of straw sticking out to the sides. Fraying. Old. Cheap. The sunlight was finally starting to wake up as well. The sound and smell of the dirty canal wafted in. Her stomach grumbles a little. Her eyes were weary, her hands calloused. Her feet had sores, and hurt every time she placed her weight on them. Her slippers were rough, and itchy. His door opened, and he came out, “let’s go, amma.”

She held onto him as the wind rushed by them, as the motorcycle cut through it. Traffic was sparse at this time. Slowly, the scene changed. From dingy, small houses, dirty alleys, it turned into big buildings, magnificent homes, freshly painted, trees lining the sidewalks. She sighed. She hoped her son would be able to live here some day. A mother wants what is best for her children. But she knew the truth. Badshah ka beta hee badshah banta hai. Only the son of a prince can become a prince. Their fortunes would not change. Birds were chirping merrily above. They were happier in this area. The air tasted fresher, the green smelled greener. No sewage. Just clean, cool air. The cycle stopped at a red light. She closed her eyes, and placed her cheek on his shoulder. Then they were off.

They were at her destination. She got off, slowly. Savoring every last moment. He revved his bike, inpatient. She looked at him, held his face in her hands, and kissed his forehead. She hobbled over to the gate and rang the bell. The guard ushered her in, and she began her job of cleaning toilets.