Awaiting Son
by Saumya Aloysius
“Mom, I’ll be back for Esala”,
said my beloved son and he left giving me a kiss. I walked along with
him up to the gate and had been looking at him until he disappeared. My
teardrops fell as if it rained heavily that day. Unlike my other sons,
he went to the frontline after spending a couple of days with me.
 I went before the Buddha, lit a lamp and prayed for his survival with
my heavy heart and tearful eyes. I had neither lunch nor dinner.
“He went back?”, asked my neighbour. I just nodded. “Be not worried,
as long as your prayers are with him he is safe”, she consoled me.
That night was a sleepless one. I failed to sleep by any means. I had
been looking at the walls and the roof which was to be rethatched once
he returned next time.
“I don’t know if he has safely landed”, I questioned with perplexity.
“He might have”, I guessed.
“Your son is a warrior not an idler. He shoulders the entire nation
giving no room to the enemy. So be proud of your son,” somebody told me
waking me up. I looked for him but there was no one.
I had a look at his framed photograph kept on the cabinet that my son
bought me from his first salary. He was there in his uniform as a lion.
I took it and kept it under my pillow so that he would be with my
warmth throughout the cold nights.
Since I was not sleepy, I woke up earlier than before and sat at the
usual doorstep until the arrival of the postman.
The postman went passing the gate as there were no letters. I was
disappointed. My palpitations went high. My tears rolled down along my
dusty wrinkled cheeks.
The following day, the day after and more days passed by and yet I
did not get any reply.
I was so confused that I walked to the post office to send a telegram
to the camp.
“War is going on, killing both ours and theirs. Now they are at the
crucial stage”, said the postmaster seriously. I knew nothing about the
crucial stage but what I knew only was that war killed people.
“Will it reach by tomorrow?” I questioned politely.
“It depends on the situation,” the post master replied with
ignorance.
As soon as I unlocked the front door, I saw that something was kept
on the rickety arm chair.
It was the letter I was awaiting. I was so happy that I could not
read it at once. I sat for awhile and went through it with my tearful
eyes.
“Mom, hope that you are keeping well. We were called to the forward
defense line as soon we went to our camp. So we rarely find the time to
write letters.
Anyway, I’ll write whenever the time permits me. Be not worried. I
won’t die as long as your blessings are with me. Be prepared to visit
the Temple of the Tooth on Esala poya day.”
His letter gave me hopes of a new life, I went before the Buddha, lit
the oil lamp and prayed for his staying power again and again.
Subsequently, I opened my suitcase and looked for his horoscope. It
was safely kept there. I took it out and thought of getting it read. I
was awaiting the arrival of horoscope readers at the doorstep.
Time passed by second by second but there was no sign of a horoscope
reader. I was so disappointed that I walked towards the gate. Then I
recognised the arrival of a horoscope reader. I ran to the room and took
a hundred rupee note and came to the gate. Eventually, he came to the
gate of mine and I gave him the horoscope. He went through it with care
and after a long time he said, “Be not worried.
He is safe and will be here soon. Be happy since this is one of the
luckiest horoscopes I have ever read. He has a long life”. I was so
happy that I gave him the hundred rupee note. I walked back to the room
and had a look at my son’s photo. I kept it on the cupboard.
On Wednesday, while I had been sweeping the compound, a crow sitting
on a dead branch cried.
I chased it away. I had no fears since I knew that he was safe. I had
his horoscope read the previous day. I had been awaiting the arrival of
Esala Poya Day so as to visit the Temple of the Tooth with my son. I had
never been there though I had seen it on post master’s television whilst
I had been supporting his wife with her household work during the last
‘maha’ season. I had my lunch and came to a shady place.
 I had been looking at the gate. At once, breaking the silence a jeep
parked at the gate. I put down the tray of betel and ran to the gate
with happiness. A few combatants got off. One of them was my son’s
colleagues. Their faces were withered. Their pride was no more with
them.
“Aunty, are you alone?” one of the combatants asked me. I nodded. But
he did not ask me “Why?”
So I kept silent. So did them. Within a few minutes, another white
van parked at the gate. They were so excited that they looked at each
other.
Two gentlemen got off hastily and one asked, “Where should it be
placed? Hurry up. We have one more to be handed over”. The combatants
did not respond. They remained silent. “What did they mean by ‘it’?” I
asked myself with confusion and curiosity.
At once, the two gentlemen opened the door of the van and dragged
something covered by the lion’s flag out. “A casket?” I was unable to
control myself by any means. I did not know what to believe or what to
think. I sat down.
My tears had been rolling down as if it were raining that day. The
combatants could do nothing other than look at the casket with their
heavy hearts. They marched over to me. I said nothing. Nothing was to be
uttered since I had lost my dearly loved son, everything of mine.
“For whom I ought to live, henceforward?” I questioned.
“Where are the prayers? Where have they all gone?” I asked with
perplexity.
“How wrong the horoscope readers were?” I felt. My tears kept falling
down and down on the casket, which was wrapped by the Lion Flag, wetting
its lion, the emblem of ours. |
