She walked the corridors everyday for two months. She had to flash her badge at the entrance every time and then go through a labyrinth of various corridors flanked by rooms on one side and a lawn on the other. She would finally find the staircase. At the landing of the second flight, she would stand for little less than a minute. This was the time she took to breathe deep while deciding who she would meet first today. Who did she feel needed more time?
She decided, on this particular day, that it was the little girl's turn. It was a long time since she last talked to her and she knew how badly this girl needed her. So she took a sharp turn at the right and walked straight ahead. After having walked through another set of corridors she eventually reached the dead-end where the room was. Room No. 19. She lightly tapped on the door. It was opened by the girl's mother. Warm greetings were exchanged and she stepped in to see the little girl eating her breakfast.
She gushed in. She wore the brightest of smiles. She walked over to the girl and tickled her belly. The little girl erupted into loud giggles and shrieks of mirth. Her mother complained that she wasn't eating. The concern in her worn-out face spoke more than the words the mother had uttered. She immediately softened her eyes to show her understanding of the lady's anxiousness. She let the little girl's thigh rest on her knee as she leaned and whispered some little secret into her ear. Then she made a funny sound..like a gurgling whale. And then she gently hissed 'Whoooosh' and the girl quickly gobbled a piece of her breakfast. This continued till the girl's breakfast was over.
She drew some pictures with the girl for today. She wanted to spend some time with her. She didn't feel like working with her on anything definite. She was tired of having to go with a constant purpose, however noble it might be. She just wanted quality time with this little, precious girl. She didn’t want to be there today with a goal.
The girl was creative and had such a fantastic shine in her eyes. It's a rarity these days, to know kids who could still have innocence left in them. This girl had the ideal childhood. She had doting parents and grandparents who whisked her away to their sprawling farmlands whenever she wanted to. She had a dog. She studied in one of the best school. She had a lovely voice. She had the grace of a unicorn. She was friendly and active. She had a sharp mind and expressive eyes. She spoke with such fluency that it would surprise anyone who talked to her. She had the agile body of an athlete. She could dream. She could love. She could be mature. She retained her childish innocence. Above all, she was unafraid.
The little girl began tugging at her sleeve. The girl wanted to watch some TV. She switched the TV on and immediately the colors of Tom & Jerry flooded the screen. She and the little girl laughed and joked about Tom and giggled at Jerry's smart ways. Then the music played. The little girl jumped out of her bed and started her weird, happy dance. She clapped and sang along. They were having a great time together.
She, every now and then, would swiftly look at the mother. The little girl’s mother sat on the other bed, mostly reading a book. But you could tell that the mother was carefully watching her. Watching them. The mother was waiting. The mother of the little girl wanted to talk. She knew that. She would respond. Another day.
The little girl gave one loud, joyous shout at the end of the song and flung her petite hands in the air. How beautiful she looked. So pristine, so young, so full of life. Both of them – she and the girl – burst into oceans of laughter before they sat on the bed. The little girl crawled awkwardly into her lap. The little girl didn't want her to go. The girl knew it was time for her to leave. How intelligent she was.
She had to, after all, become what she had come to this place for. She had to say those words. She had to construct the situation and do what was expected of her. She had to display what she had learned. How strange these lines are. Not knowing where one stops and where one takes birth.
At last, she stepped out of the room. She waved a cheerful bye to the little girl. The girl let the sides of her mouth inch toward a smile as her eyes shone with the glint of delight. Delight that she'll come tomorrow to make some paper frogs.
She sighed as she walked out of the labyrinth. The sigh was unusually deep. She felt it bring out the intense misery she had slipped into. All the doubts, questions and the answers she was seeking seemed to be stringed out through this sigh of indistinguishable grief. She was at once strong and weak.
This little girl could have it all...but for this white abode she is living in.
25 comments:
The 'white' abode, does it allude to the girls 'white; body/abode an affliction ?
Loved the way the atmosphere has been created ! I walked with her !
This is one of the most eloquent depictions of how I feel as a family physician sometimes. In the minutes I have with my patients, there is always a "plan". It's funny, sometimes they just want someone to spend time with. In their world, sometimes the doctor, psychologist, etc is the only one who listens to them. Sometimes I want to take off my stethoscope, and just sit and talk to patients, and forget about medications, therapies, etc.
I totally echo Antonia's comments ... and when I say totally ... I mean every word of it ...
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The white abode .. hmm ... that was good ... I wanted to so rush through to the end of the story , when I was reading it .. and I personally think that is a mark of a story very well written ...
Are their more parts to it ?
And this is a good comments script (if u do not want haloscan i.e. , which u do not want ...)
touching..do answer about the white abode.
intersting comments as well.
Who is curing who?
I love the way the little girl reacted to her illness, what ever it was.
I love when people have a reality for themselves, it doesnt matter what happens, nothing can take their cheerfulness and confidence away.
Pincushion - i'm glad you say you've walked with her. The intention was that. The white abode is the hospital.
PoeticMermaid - True. They have much to say and no one who will actually understand them. The thing about patients is that they want someone from the outside..not someone from their own life. That's where the doctors, psychologists etc are required. That's where we somehow lack.
Antonia - :) Thanks for coming by, first of all. The girl's not at all well. The mother wanted to talk about her own issues and troubles. I have no idea what's to happen next..I suppose that's the end of this story. Sometimes there never really are ends..
Infatuation Junkie - More parts? Not really..like I've said above..perhaps it's an ongoing story. And yes, when a reader is waiting to reach the end of a story, it is a sign of well written work, if I may go as far as that!
Blackempress - :) Yeah, I like interactive comments. Always makes it interesting.
Atheistbishop - It's something I'd learnt from this one. To somehow remain cheerful. It's quite difficult..to know that it's okay..no matter what the outcome. I don't seem to understand where that strength comes from. All I've managed to gather is that you either have it or don't.
Atheistbishop - Oh. And 'She' is curing 'her' :)
Hi :..M..:,:)Ellipses M here after quite a bit...I was reading some of your earlier posts as well and what i really like about your style is how it freezes nanoseconds-it captures the light on faces as they turn along with the thought that crosses their minds as they feel the light moving on their faces, ya know, that one nanomoment...and it comes out well;)
With this post what i liked best was the lack of detail of physical environment except for the bare minimum-like "white abode" or "M3 Ward"...it leaves a lot to the imagination of the reader, and thus engages the reader into the text.I agree with poeticmermaid- it's a very eloquent depiction.
Nice post... i was dying to get to the end of it..
/Alien
Anon - Ellipses M, eh? Hehe. I love the way you comment. There's much analysis, description and the third person's perspective. I appreciate that you let me peek into a reader's mind. Do keep coming. :)
enembius - Yes, it is rather close to my heart.
Alien - :) Thank you. It's ironical how you say you were 'dying' to get to the end of the story, no? Given the content of this one, I mean.
with you around who needs TV?!
you create beautifully intricate imagery and i always love "oceans of laughter" :-)
Touching Story :.M.:
I liked the lack of an "End" to the story. Not everything has an ending, and not everything needs to be put to end.
Also thank you for your praising comments on my post. I feel honoured :o)
pls keep visiting.
Sorry i took so long in reading your latest entries, was sick. I found M3 Ward very moving. How come you always write about "dark" stuff? No light moment in sight. Not that that's a bad thing, just wondering....
Am sorry I didn't read your latest earlier, I was down with a viral fever. Anyway, I found 'M3 Ward' very moving. How come you always write about "dark" stuff? No light moments. Not that that's bad, just wondering...
dewdrop - Hehe. To think I seldom watch any TV! I could do with some oceans of laughter.
AmitKen - Not praise as much as appreciation of well written work. And true, not everything requires an end. Many things have been ongoing..we never knew the point of the start. So how can we point out the end?
Urvashi - Oh. You should've told me. I'd have checked on you. Hope you're fine now. Hmm. Yeah, I do dwell on the more sombre moments of life. :) I make up for that in person now, don't I?!?
The River Dweller - I agree with you, I left much hanging in the air. No blog?
I enjoyed reading this and was able to guess that the WHITE abode is the hospital.Hurray ;)
Nice 1 M....keep writing so that me can keep reading! :)
Pristine.
Beautiful.
White.
Sad.
Touching.
Moving.
I can see her face.
I walk with her.
Xena - Welcome here and I'll give you non-existant brownie points for guessing it right. :)
.:A:. - :) String of adjectives. Thanks.
The River Dweller - Depends not on the irregularity, but the quality. :) I did notice I've been to your blog before. Explains how you found me!
Hope to see you around here regularly then ;)
Jax - Oh. That's very sad. I've worked with some people, being in the same field, so I can understand the grief.
Jax - I very strongly believe in this..however corny it might be..that we're never given more than what we can handle.
I've had a pretty much similar method of dealing..to carry what you can and just move on. Or there's the threat of succumbing.
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