Essay: Torn by Niharika Bhati

In this personal essay, Niharika Bhati shares a heart-wrenching moment from her childhood, where the grief and pain of loss takes a toll on her heart and mind.

Weeks had passed but time had stood still for me. There was no way to grapple with the uncertainty burgeoning with each moment ticking away. The afternoon heat would make it worse — everyone at home would be asleep except the crows and sparrows that cawed and cackled in search of water to soothe their unquenchable thirst. Trees in the lawn outside my grandparents’ home withered slowly; the supply of water was limited, and its judicious use was deliberated by the humans who looked after them.

My mother lay on the rickety bed that creaked with too much weight. The looming silence in the room could not calm her wretched nerves. After some 20 minutes of pretending to rest my body, I got up to quietly pick the book lying callously on the window ledge. Although the tube light was switched off, I could still read as the curtain was not fully drawn and the harsh sun rays brightened the corner near my pillowcase. Those days, reading meant discovering new worlds, discrete surroundings, varied realities, and foreign environments. Moving into adolescence meant my interest was growing in pop fiction more than Enid Blyton or Edward Stratemeyer. I had recently encountered the alluring works of Archer and Sheldon; their fast-paced style narratives and larger-than-life characters were so appealing.