[ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
.When Saroj called to tell me to come to the ER my legs started to shake as what had happened sank in.Even now I can feel the tremors in my hands, my legs, my heart.You are home now, and I'm still shaking.I'm still scared shitless and I can't breathe without feeling the fear rise in my throat.I look at you and I see that nine-day-old baby who wouldn't stop crying and I think that maybe if I carried you again, you'd stop crying and go to sleep.I can't imagine what we did, what Saroj and I did that drove you tothis weakness.I know, I know, you'll say that you're an independent woman and you make your own choices.But as a father, I'm not allowed that luxury.I can't ever say that I'm done with you, because a parent's job is never finished, never over, never completed.Even after I'm dead, I'll want to look over you and make sure you're eating right, sleeping well, sleeping alone.I wonder if it was me who drove you here.If it was my success that compelled you to attempt suicide.I wonder if maybe we'd stayed in India, like Saroj wanted, this wouldn't have happened.I wonder and wonder and wonder, and as I wonder, I see you in that bathtub, bleeding, and my hands start to shake again and there's a tremor that runs through me.I feel like I have malaria again, like I did when we lived in Jorhat, sick, shaking, unbearably tired, and feeling that something inside me is dying, draining, falling apart.Is there anything more terrible than seeing your child trapped in such a horror that she wants to die? Could there be anything more painful, more torturous than this? I would happily give away my only arm if I could save you, help you, hold you.But you seem distant, it seems as if a cocoon has enveloped you and we are all walking around like shadows, making a small impression but not enough to wake you up from your nightmare.Life is so much fun, Devi.I wish you could have some fun, so much fun that you will never, ever think about dying again.We should be afraid of death because that affirms our faith in life.When we embrace death, we give ourselves to the wasteland of hopelessness.I will hold your hand through this.I will grab your hand and hang on until this is over.I will tie you up, imprison you, until I make you realize that your life is worth living, that your life is brilliant, that you are an amazing girl, and you're the one who makes the sun shine brighter forme.I love you, Devi, live for me!DaddyThere Is a Mute in the KitchenDevi never cooked.It wasn't that she was a terrible cook; she just didn't cook very often.Saroj had tried to teach her children to cook without having them actually cook in her kitchen, messing it up, and she'd failed.“Some girls are just not domestic,” she would complain, ignoring Devi when she pointed out that all her attempts at learning were thwarted because Saroj couldn't stand even the idea of anyone else but her cooking in her kitchen.Saroj lived in fear that Devi, Shobha, or even Vasu would put things away in the wrong place or ruin her perfectly managed kitchen.That was unacceptable and to avoid any kitchen mishaps, Saroj banned everyone from using her kitchen.She never said it out loud, but everyone knew anyway.“How dirty can she make it?” Vasu interfered once when Devi pleaded that she be allowed to try a chocolate cake recipe a friend of hers had made all by herself.But when it came to the kitchen, Saroj ruled supreme and no one could make cake or anything else there.So after a childhood of only watching the cooking process in the kitchen, it gave Devi immense pleasure to walk into her mother's kitchen and start cooking.She knew no one would argue, make a scene, or ask her to leave.She was a suicidal mute, who would want to take a chance and tip her scales off again?The idea of eating Saroj's regular, everyday, garden-variety mint chutney didn't sit well with Devi.She wanted to eat something else, make something new, start fresh.And she liked the idea of cooking, being in a kitchen, an uncomplicated world of spices, produce, lentils, meat, poultry, and rice.There were no arguments here.This was sacred land.Her mind could wander on all sorts of possibilities here and she wouldn't have to worry about where she ended up.Anything was possible and everything was acceptable, as long as she kept her mind confined to food and cooking.Devi found the dry apricots in the pantry [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]