It has been ten days… but it feels like forever… since I met her for the last time. I could tell, no, I knew that she had grown bigger, and so could my family. It had been twenty happy weeks before that, but a day, maybe an hour, changed all that. To imagine I wouldn’t be spending more time with her… no words can express the sadness… the restlessness that I felt.
I spent the entire morning with her. I bathed her and sang to her. But I could tell that she was restless, just like me. Almost as if she knew she’d never see me. It was one day before that I had seen her for the first time. I smiled for the last time then, and he frowned for the first time.
I tried to be very careful, tried not to let her go, but I knew I was only delaying the inevitable. From the moment I knew it was her, I knew I was trapped…. no, we were trapped. I couldn’t run away, I couldn’t hide. I could see envious hands waiting to take her away. I fed her one last time. But I never made it back to my room after lunch. My family had spilt oil on the last step, and I came rolling down.
And just like that… she was… she was gone.
I never told you this, but I had named her. I had named her Asha. In my heart I knew, that when she came into the world, if she came into the world, only that one name would be apt for her. If she did come, then she’d be my reason for hope, my reason to tell her to dream.
But the last thing, the last thing I could say to her before I fell unconscious was “Forgive me”.
(21st May 2014)