A lost daughter…

“….. I can’t live without seeing my daughter.  I only signed the child custody order because my husband had my daughter with him and was threatening to kill her if I didn’t sign the papers….’

She finished reading the brief and leaned back, a weary sigh escaping her lips and the back of her hand brushing away the tears that were beginning to prick.

This particular case hit too close to home. She was transported 20 years ago to the day her psychotic husband had kidnapped their 3 year old. She had given it everything she had, but she hadn’t seen or heard from her daughter or husband since then. She couldn’t imagine what Jahnvi would look like now, as a young woman  - in her mind’s eye, she could only picture her as the little girl she’d been – twinkling eyes, an impish grin, her face framed by a mop of wild curls as she pressed a sticky chocolate-smeared kiss on her mother’s cheek.

The telephone rang, startling her awake from her personal nightmare. “Ms. Manya Tiwari is here. I had placed her case papers on your desk earlier today. Can I show her in?”. She nodded, “Yes, I just went through the papers. Give me a few minutes.”

She turned to the desk and flipped through the documents once more, a look of determination in her eyes. It was a difficult career choice and each new case left her emotionally drained and exhausted. But she would not stop – she had vowed that she would not allow another person go through what had happened to her.

She picked up the telephone, “Yes, Indu – please show Ms. Manya to my cabin.”

Edited to add:

I was recently working on a case at work. While it wasn’t a child-custody dispute, the parties involved were fighting a separate case for custody of their infant daughter and unfortunately those documents were presented as evidence here. It was heart-breaking to read through the papers and I cannot even imagine the pain that families go through in such situations. My heart goes out to all of them… I can think of very few things that are worse than fighting for/over your own child.

The scents and sounds of home

I came home from work around 6 today, a little earlier than I usually do. Its been a couple of weeks since I have been home at this time, and the first thing to hit my senses as I entered was the scent of the agarbathi that had been lit along with the evening villaku. And I felt a wave of comfort wash over me as I took a deep breath and enjoyed one of the scents that makes my home.

I started thinking about it and I realised that apart from all the physical objects and all the memories a house holds, its also the scents and sounds that you associate with a place being home.

Home for me, is the scent of my thatha’s cologne everytime I lean in to kiss his cheek… the sound of my patti’s voice enquiring almost everytime I walk in, if I want something to eat…the smell of oil, shikha and samabarani on a lazy sunday morning… the not-so-distant sounds of the traffic all night since we live on an arterial road in the city…the footsteps of my appa as he walks in and hangs his keys noisily near the front door…the mild tinkling sounds that follows my mother wherever she goes because of the key bunch on her hips, and the bangles and anklets that she wears all the time…the slamming of my kid sister’s room door when she’s angry with me…the sound of her excited ‘Duuude, guess what?’ when she has something to say…the scent of my mother’s cooking wafting through the rooms… the sweaty smell of my cousin as he walks in from school…the sound of my father talking loudly on his cellphone…the scent of the flowers that bloom in our garden veranda…

So tell me, what are the scents and sounds that make up your home? :)

___________________________________________________________________

*Agarbathi/samabarani – Incense used for worship and for perfuming one’s body and hair; *Villaku – The evening lamp lit in the puja room; *Thatha – Grandfather, *Patti – Grandmother; *Shikha/shikakai – A fruit dried and made into a powder and used as a shampoo and conditioner.