Ammu

Ammu leaned back, resting her head in the rocking chair and stared at the cieling. Closing her eyes was difficult these days. If she closed her eyes, she would go back to that dark room. She would have to listen to the cries, the gut wrenching screams of the girl's mother, once again. She would have to see Arun, her son, Her Aroo. She would feel the heavy air of that room weighing her down, shrinking her to a size where no one could see her.



Finally she would see her -- sitting as a stone. She would see her as clearly as she did on that day, in that room.

Their eyes met. Ammu's eyes were moving rapidly, searching for some life, a glint of hope in that girl's eyes. But there was none. They pierced her, baring her, revealing her soul and saying, "Yes, I can see your soul. But you know what Ammu? You can't even do that. You can't rip my soul. You know why? Because your son took it away from me. Your son raped me.

Ammu sat straight with a jerk and shut her ears with her hands. Her son -- a rapist. The news was everywhere -- In every channel, in every newspaper. There were OB Vans standing outside the gate of her house. Everyone wanted to cover the news of the sinister boy who raped a 15 year old.



"Go away" She shouted, but the adamant journalists would not listen to her. They would jump over each other, thrusting mikes on her face, asking the where about of her son. Every question was a stab with the sharpest knife. “Where is your son Amrita ji?” “Amrita ji, are you hiding him”? “Did you see any signs of him growing up to be a rapist?”



“What?” Ammu squinted at the journalist. She shook her head in disappointment and irritation. Pushing herself away from the prancing maniacs, she forcefully closed the door.



“Did you see any signs of him growing up to be a rapist?”



The question echoed in her ears. She supported herself on the door, looking around her house. What should she do? Where should she go? Maybe the utensils needed cleaning. Maybe, the furniture needed some polishing. The fishes needed fed, something had to be done. Something had to be done to take her mind away from the madness.



“Did you see any signs of him growing up to be a rapist?”



Aroo was the best son, she wanted to tell them. The little Aroo, who would come running to her with his little feet, “Ammu, I got some more laddoos for you”, “Ammu, why does Shankar Uncle have no hair?” “Why does Shashi’s mom beats him?” She almost smiled at the memory. The world called her Ammu for Amrita. Aroo called her Ammu for Amma, his Amma.



How did my little Aroo become a beast? Today, she could not understand her own son. She had failed as a mother. She had failed to teach her son the most basic etiquettes. Her throat felt dry. Her lips had started to quiver. The tears refused to stay back anymore. They ran down her cheek, unstoppable, and she let them. She had pretended to be strong. She had pretended to be in denial – until she met Aroo after the news broke.



“What are they saying? You could not have done this Aroo. Son, why is this girl lying? Which girl lies like that? What has this world come to? Girls staging their own rape? “ She stopped herself. She was talking too much. She was talking too wrong. But she did not understand the conundrum around her. She was moving around in short circles, walking in and then turning back. They were accusing her son of the most heinous crime. Aroo wasn’t like that. “Aroo?”



Arun was sitting on the sofa, not saying anything, not looking at her.



“Tell me the truth Aroo”. Why is she lying? What does she want?”



“She is not lying” He said, barely audible.



“What, son?” She raised her eye brows,trying to hear his mumbling.



“She is not lying”. He said again, still not looking at her.



Ammu felt her guts coming to her throat. Her hair band felt too tight. Her tongue, too heavy.



“She is not lying? You …..”Ammu could not say the word. She could not say anything. She collapsed on the cold floor. It was too cold, like the air around her.



“Get out!”



“Ammu. Pls listen to me …..”



“Go away Arun. Run away, hide, or I will surrender you to the police.”



She never called him Arun, not even when she scolded him. His real name felt strange from her. But this was not her son. This person was demon. There was no other word for him.



“Did you see any signs of him growing up to be a rapist?”



She was still standing leaning back on the door. She remembered her Baba, the strongest person she knew. She could feel the smell of the curry from her mother’s kitchen. She wanted to go running to her mother, hiding behind her and closing her eyes with the pallu of her mother’s sari, like she did as a little girl.



“What do I do, tell me Baba? What should I do?”



“Do what is right Ammu.” She heard her Baba say, the one advice he always gave her. Do what is right.



The news reporters were still knocking at her door.

“Amrita ji, your son has been caught. How do you feel?” Amrita ji, please open the door; People need to know the truth. Will you hire a lawyer for him?”



Ammu turned back and opened the door. The reporters were ready to attack her, like a pack of wolves.



“Hang him”



There was a stunned silence amongst the reporters. “Do you really want your son to be hanged for what he did? Do you disown him Amrita ji?” asked a reporter, in slow pronounced words, as if searching the right words.



“He deserves it. If he would not have been my son, I would have asked for a harsher punishment. I ask you to forgive him and give him the easiest way out. Hang him” She took a step back and closed the door. The reporters were still knocking the door.



Ammu walked around the house. Every corner was shrieking with the memory of a family she once had. She sat back in her rocking chair. She felt a heavy weight lift off her chest. She did not know what will happen tomorrow. Will they really hang him? Will they leave him after 7 years? It did not matter anymore.



Her Aroo was dead long back.