Unforgiven

Aruna's dying mother causes an emotional mayhem. On a routine visit to the hospital, the she does something very wrong- a deed that fails her understanding. Will she ever forgive herself?

“We’re going to have to put her on the ventilator,” said the doctor, handing Aruna a clip-board with a document. Her fingers fumbled for a pen and streaked her name somewhere across the sheet of paper. She didn't want to read the numerous disclaimers the hospital quoted to shed responsibility. Paradoxically, the doctors failed to perceive or even acknowledge the simplest reality of life- death. Her mother was dying, and there was no denying it. It had to happen. Their efforts were only postponing the inevitable, causing more pain than God intended to. But how could Aruna let her mother die? After years of being bedridden, she was too old to die. 

It had been a month since dementia got the better of the old lady, turning her into a complete vegetable. If they had tried to feed her, she would clench her teeth so hard it was unnatural for an octogenarian. Aruna didn't know whether it was conscious effort or her illness. She never thought the two alike. She thought of it as a monster inside the body of a frail old lady, eating her from the inside and violently protesting against all efforts to save her. 

A couple of weeks ago, all attempts to feed her failed. She grew weak and had to be taken to the hospital. It was funny how she barely flinched at the numerous incisions that doctors make without heart. In their hands, she would live. Somehow it was all unnerving for Aruna. She saw differently. She knew every twitch of her mother's face, every careless tear she took no responsibility for, was a benumbed expression of immense pain and helplessness. 

Aruna knew the odds of her mother’s survival. She had had multiple organ failure. She was now closer to the edge than ever before. It's funny how so many human organs could be replaced by machines. It was as if her soul was trapped in a body that couldn’t function on its own. The doctors thrust some pipes into her body, and had kept her artificially alive for so long. Artificially alive. When the body becomes a cage to the soul. What a damned state it must be.

 

Aruna felt disgusted of herself at allowing such pain to be inflicted upon her mother. She had been very ill for five years. Yet, on no occasion did she show any signs of letting go. Even now, she lay with her eyes closed, registering no emotion at all. She was so demented she thought of Aruna as her enemy who wanted her to die.

Somewhere inside her, in a place impenetrable to the monster, she was the same woman who loved her children dearly. But life had torn the fragile soul time and again. Aruna's search for the fragments would never end. 

In some way or another, the thought of ending her mother’s troubles crossed Aruna’s mind every day. Not much had to be done. If somebody even accidentally pulled out the plugs from the wall, she would die within minutes. The thought frightened her more than anything. 

“You would think I killed you, wouldn’t you,” she would think, staring her mother in the face. “You’re wrong thinking that way. I’m not going to do it. Stay this way for as long as you like. The only way you die is when you let go, for I will never.”

The doctors added to Aruna’s guilt. Life-support systems were very costly. Her savings were draining out by the hour. Her mind impervious to reality, she made the firm decision to continue with the 'treatment'. She had no one but her husband Anil to support her will. No relative had even offered help. All siblings refused to spend any money on their mother. What was the use? It was a heavy investment with a guaranteed failure. They cursed Aruna for being an irreligious woman holding out against God’s will. 

The old lady had always been oddly rebellious. Aruna recalled her brother’s death. When Sanjay died in a motorcycle accident, he was only twenty. It was devastating for the family. After they took his body away for cremation, his mother slowly collected every portrait, idol and other images of Gods, put them in a bag, and threw them out of the house in anger. She was never the same after that. Life had delivered it's hardest blow. 

“The car’s outside. You go home and get some sleep,” said Anil one evening. Aruna wanted to get away. She wanted to pause the trauma, but that just couldn't be. She never really got to sleep. Her friends thought she had hardened herself to the situation. But Anil knew she would cry all night and scream in her head all day. She was scarred. He tried to explain to her how her mother couldn't think properly, and didn't mean the things she said. But it was the small, crying frail lady's helplessness is what shattered her.

The next morning he dropped her at the hospital. The small ward where her mother was lodged had three beds. The first one had been unoccupied the previous day, a man lay in the one next to it, and in the third one by the window lay her mother.

Aruna walked slowly. Sleep deprivation and prolonged mental trauma had taken it's toll on her. She was barely conscious. It took her some time to locate the ward. When she entered it, she saw an old, bald woman lying in the first bed. Why had they shifted her mother to bed number one without permission? She moved closer. Why had they shaved her head? What other painful procedure were they going to carry out on her? Not another surgery!

The old lady was wearing a nose-ring. Why had they put that on her? Probably to make sure no one mistook her for a man. She felt dizzy. A boy stood silently by the bed. She was oblivious to his presence, and he was, of hers. Presently a doctor came by.

“Doctor, what happened? What’s wrong with her,” Aruna asked him.

“Are you related to this lady?”

“Yes. I’m her daughter.”

“Well, she’s brain dead, ma’am.” He left. 

Aruna's heart sank. She mechanically stroked the lady’s forehead, and chanted a mantra as she would chant to her mother every day. The boy didn't interject. Aruna’s vision blurred. She was crying- a little for the old lady, who couldn't think at all now, and a little for herself- she did not know what more was to come.

In the afternoon Anil came to check on her. She jumped at his sight.

“Anil! They’ve shifted Amma to the first bed! They shaved her head and now they say she’s braindead!”

“What?! How come? They can’t do that!” 

He went inside to check. It took him a while to figure things out.

“Aruna, Ma’s still in bed number three.” He looked worried.

Anil saw his wife's eyes go blank. 

“I think you should go home now.” He led her to the car.

Author's Note

I'm trying to explore human psychology here. Tell me if it works. Grammatical errors are regretted.