MA

Dear Ma,
How are you doing? How is your leg, still broken? I hope everything is fine. Bogey howls for you at night. Make a quick return, won't you? We miss you terribly.
Love,
Aman.

I wrote letters every week. Eagerly awaiting replies and when received, they were smeared with excuses to not return as quickly as we had hoped, although at the time I didn't write them off as excuses. Ma was my favourite person. Her eyes danced in the sunlight and lit up when she was served her daily cup of cha. On rainy days, the downpour lifted her mood and many times I caught her slowly swaying to the melody of the rain hitting the road. She used to sit in the veranda for hours, looking out onto the balcony, inhaling the smell of wet plants and fresh air. There was something harmonious about the way she spoke. She was never afraid to say what she felt and she always said it in the most delicate way. Her favourite time of day was early morning. She sat in that veranda, gazed at the sunrise and breathed in the new morning. She used to bring my sister and I into her room and tell us stories about Sun kings and Moon princesses. Her eyes twinkled as she spoke. There was magic around her. Ma wore her saari loosely, to cover her stomach. She had a scar there from many years ago - she never told me how she got it. She never wore make-up; she used to say that embracing her age was her way of being real. As the years passed by, I noticed the silver strands tangled in her messy bun, and slight wrinkles appearing under her eyes. She was still so beautiful. Ma was known for radiating happiness, never once had I seen her without a smile. She delighted everyone around her. She was the most selfless person I had ever known. Who could dislike her, who could ever mistreat her? There was no bad in her.
Then came the Dark Days. Ma's smile deteriorated with each day and when it finally turned upside down, I wondered what could have caused her so much pain. Abba and Ma didn't speak to each other for weeks it seemed. When they did, there was tension in the air. I woke up one morning and saw a rather large cut on Ma's cheek. When I asked her about it, she said she was too slow for the rakkhosh and barely got away. I believed her. Ma left one day, she gave me a kiss on my forehead and a big hug to both my sister and I. She told us she was going to Nani's for a while. I hadn't heard from her, so I started writing her letters. The last letter I got from her only read, "I was scared." I haven't received a letter from her since. Where was Ma, where was my favourite person? Where was the light in my life? Why did she leave us?
I used to think she was invincible; nothing could obstruct her path. Turns out, she was human, just like the rest of us. Her everlasting, or so I thought, smile masked her pain. I haven't spoken to her in years; my life is devoid of her certain glow. To this day I believe that the rakkosh finally got to her; she couldn't defeat it anymore.

Zubaida Rana Rahman, 16, is a Class 10 student at Sunbeams School.