THE DAY I ALMOST KILLED MY CHILD

I sat brooding and brushing the marks that was on my right hand. It marked teeth of a little human.

- SHREEJA PRASHANTH

The usual lady, Hema came and sat near to me keeping eyes on her dyslexic son and curiously listening to the way he was responding to his teacher. She seemed to be in a better mood today. I could see a ray of hope in her mouth's curves. A year before when I met, she was all for the sobbing 'nataks'.

She started narrating her usual stories of morning cooking and cleaning works. She looked at me when I skipped a few responses that I otherwise used to dictate as 'umm, oh, uhh' sounds... she looked on my hands and asked "Rayan bit you again?"

I just nodded my head. I was in no mood to explain the same stories again to her; not to anyone.

World just appears to be unfair. Inside the compound walls of this special school, everyone or every parent share somewhat equal stories. They can understand each other. Of course, parent of a special child can understand any problem of this world! They are people who are somewhere near to the great principles of nirvana! But outside this compound lies a huge world that is made up of dirty pile of unfairness.

Hema wanted to help me out off my sobber self. She tried the simple trick of 'changing the topics'.

So, what did you prepare for dinner yesterday?" she enquired pretending her level best to make me feel that she cared for me too. (No one cares for anyone. I am the best person to know it)

'What did I prepare for dinner yesterday?' Yesterday I died. I died crying. I never wanted to return to this mundane life. I wished I died when I cried aloud, at the peak of my voice, at the terrace while hugging Rayan, while he kept oh holding my flesh in between his teeth.