I switch off the alarm and I wake up with a smile on my face. After my regular half an hour session of exercise, I wake up my 6 year old son, Joan. He gets irritated a bit when made to wake up at 7 am in the morning for school. I know I am not that good as a mother at my job of nurturing my son as well as a mother would be, but I am getting better with each day. I try to being a smile on his face by preparing his favorite stuff for breakfast; and that also energizes him in getting dressed up quick for his school. Today I prepared a French toast along with eggs, sunny sides up!! I prepared the breakfast, while he took a shower and dressed into his school uniform. He could sense the aroma of food and rushed in to have it with me, at our favorite corner of the house. That remains our make-shift dining arrangement in our balcony facing the serene nature on the other side. The satisfied look on my son’s face, the calmness around, and a pride in me that I made the best breakfast for my son; all together gift me the best 15 minutes of my daily grind during the weekdays. I so love my week days. The entire process of doing things for my son, seeing him off to his school, thinking about him during my work, rushing home in the evening to see him play with his friends, and then working with him on his home work, preparing dinner, feeding him and putting him off to sleep with a good night kiss, I think I manage quite well without his mom. I think the same for the entire week, till the Sunday comes, and along with it comes the time to meet Joan’s mother and my wife of 10 years. Unlike most of the people that one would know of, I indeed dread Sundays. It is a day for emotional torment for both of us, in fact for all the three of us. It does create a sort of illusion on a 6 year old child’s mind to find his mother only once a week, and that too behind the bars inside a prison. I regret calculating how much my child has missed on fortunes of being caressed, pampered and loved by his mother. As a consultant Chartered Accountant, I can calculate the years of bonding between my child and wife to be precise a year and a half!! I wish and pray to the Almighty that my child gets to spend a normal routine life with his mother and father together as a family after at least 5 odd years from now; when her sentence ends. I request the people up above to observe and cherish the look on my child’s face when he meets his mother for just 15 minutes in the entire week; and forgive us just once for the actions that we humans tend to take in the name of wrath when our religion, community or the family is at stake.
People do tell me that it might get difficult for him to accept his mother at a later stage of life when he grows up and understands things and life. But to speak from the heart, I do not even care a bit for anyone. I have known my child’s mother for long; had it not been for her, I would not have had an adorable son like Joan in my life.
People do tell me that it might get difficult for him to accept his mother at a later stage of life when he grows up and understands things and life. But to speak from the heart, I do not even care a bit for anyone. I have known my child’s mother for long; had it not been for her, I would not have had an adorable son like Joan in my life.
