She went into the prayer room. Her relationship with God was ambivalent to say the least. He had given her everything and then had taken it all away. Inspite of her own bitterness and anger, Prachi felt compelled to pray. Afterall those prayers were not for herself. Prachi lit the lamp and started to read a chapter of the Bhagavad Gita. After a while, she stopped reading and stared unblinkingly at the the figures of Ram & Sita. After all these years, she still struggled with her rage against them but still so desperately seeked peace from them. Premlata found her there. Placing a hand on Prachi's head, she said, "Prachi, come have some breakfast now. We will start preparing for the prayers after that." Prachi quietly nodded and followed her mother into the dining room.
The alarm went off and Milind woke up with his customary headache. His hand hit something and he heard the whisky bottle roll of the bed and land on the floor with a dull thud. Usually with a firece determination, Milind would ignore his hangover and get out of bed immediately. But today, he could not muster up the strength. He felt exhausted. But then it slowly dawned on him, the significance of the day. With a willpower, that a minute ago seemed impossible, Milind was out of bed and standing under an icy cold shower. Milind was desperate to get to work. He had to surround himself with other people, with mindnumbing work, anything that would keep his mind off those memories. Memories that, especially today, could drive him to the brink of madness.
Mrs Osman was startled to see Mr Mishra arrive even earlier than usual. For the last two years, Milind would arrive at work promptly at eight and not leave until ten in the night, sometimes even later. She often wondered if the man ever slept. Little did she know, at what a high cost, sleep came at, for Milind. Every day he worked himself to the point of exhaustion. Then he went home and drank to further numb his senses. But that still didn't stop the nightmares. Milind nodded at her curtly, "A cup of coffee, please and call in Aslan Tarik." Milind didn't let his throbbing headache distract him from the day's work that lay ahead. He would ignore it, just like he ignored his heartache that threatened to paralyse him with grief, if he ever allowed himself to think about it
The prayer was over and Prachi was standing by the door with the pundit. "Thank you. This is a donation for the temple.", said Prachi. The pundit accepted the donation. He wanted to say a few words of comfort but he could think of nothing to say to this grim faced woman that would provide her with some solace. So, instead he quietly accepted the donation and left. Premlata watched as Prachi cleared the prayer area. The whole day, Prachi had been calm. To anyone else, it would seem as if she had finally come to terms with her grief. But Premlata knew better. She knew tonight, when finally locked away in the solitude of her room, the facade will break and Prachi will cry her heart out. All those stormy tears, that she hid from everyone else.
That night, Prachi lay in bed wide awake. She had survived the day so far but she knew this was the most difficult moment yet. When she was finally all alone with her memories."Don't, just go to sleep.", Prachi told herself repeatedly. But she couldn't help herself. She got up and not even bothering to switch the light on, she walked to the closet. She paused for a second, before she pulled out the box. This was all that was left of her. Everything else had been given away. Prachi took a deep breathe as she opened the album. She felt her chest tighten as she saw the black and white sonogram picture. But she refused to let the tears spill. She quickly shut the album when she saw the next picture of Milind with his arms around her and her expanding belly.
Prachi sat at the the edge of the bed and gripping the edge tightly, tried to steady her breathing. Against her better judgement, she opened the album again. She couldn't stop the tears this time, the hot angry tears or the pain that seemed to course through her veins as she flipped through the pages, almost in a frenzy. The pictures swam before her eyes in a blur. Pictures of her laughing with her sisters at her baby shower, pictures of Milind fixing a crib, pictures of her sitting in the hospital bed, holding her baby as Milind looked at both of them in awe, pictures of Milind holding his baby daughter as if she was the most precious thing in the world, pictures of a chubby, dimpled, curly haired little girl trying to walk, pictures of a little girl held by her adoring parents at her first birthday and then again at her third birthday, this time with Prachi showing the first signs of her second pregnancy.
Pictures, pictures, pictures that spoke of memories, that would torment Prachi, for the rest of her life. Prachi flung the album away from her. Burying her face in her hands, Prachi slid to the floor. Pulling her knees to her chest, Prachi rocked back and forth as the tears she fought against all day, finally burst through. After a while, Prachi stopped crying but she didn't move from her position. She was hit by a faint light, when she realised the sun was rising. She finally got up and picked up the album. She turned to the last page. The picture was of Milind standing behind their daughter as she tried out her new tricycle. It was the last picture taken of Kshama before she died.
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