The Wretched Day-5

It must be my mom again, I guessed. I rushed to answer it but before I could fish out the mobile from my bag, I missed the call. By then the uncle dropped me at home. I thanked him and he veered past with a mild smile. 

When I entered home, it was just 10 minutes to 8pm. I called my dad to ask where he was. "I will be back within minutes. The mechanic is dealing with the bike.", he soothed. 

Just then I noticed that my mom had even packed my dresses for the night stay at grandma's house. It was so fishy. She wouldn't encourage me to stay away from home during weekdays. That too— it was a Monday, hence five days away from the weekend. 

I phoned my mom back, to ask where she was. By then, her worries had snowballed into a well-formed frustration. "Where on the earth are you? Can't you attend the call?....", She bellowed. I turned red too. "Maa..first let me answer. You don't know what happened. I couldn't board the overcrowded bus– called dad to pick me up– worst of all we got a flat tire....", I yelled back incoherently. Then she told me to take care of the house. "But I have to come, right?", I added meekly. "Not needed!", She snapped. 

I couldn't decode whether that "NOT NEEDED!" was a normal sentence or an outcome of irritation. I was puzzled and waited for my dad to reach home.

Those were the horrible minutes. My ever-wavering mind went burserk thinking all the ominously unwanted stuff— "What if something happened to grandma? What if we both couldn't meet FOR ONE LAST TIME? Will I ever be able to forgive myself for that?...."

But it was not the first time. Similar thing had happened a week ago when my mom and dad got a call from the hospital at 12:30am. They had come to conclusion that the night would be my grandma's last night. But my grandma evaded death miraculously and surprised us with her childlike smile. So I discarded those thoughts as height of overthinking and dropped the idea of visiting grandma altogether. 

By then my dad too arrived. I told him that I would not be going. But he insisted me on going. "Even if you can't board the bus on time, I'll send Anbu automan. He will drop you at your grandma's house.", he offered thoughtfully. Anbu automan— that old grumpy man with greased khaki shirt who used to tease me ruthlessly, when I crossed the road as a child was still smirking in my memories. Hence I said not needed.

And later I had to regret...

(To be continued...)