If life had just been a groan...

The holiday week was a challenging one. One that questions all your loyalties and expectations. The struggle was to finally get through the airport rituals and get back home. All through the process of loading suitcases and monitoring the kids movements, the mind remained jumbled up with thoughts that were agonizing.

While I followed the trolley with the luggage, the mind was filled with questions. Why can’t people just move on in life? Why is it such a task to just accept people as they are. The children dragged themselves towards the ticket counter. “Stop running will you!” I shouted at my younger son who never sits still. He looked at me wondering what had gotten into me. My husband seemed annoyed with the crowded space and the anxiety of our Chance seats filled him up. He signalled me to find a place to sit as it would take some time.

I sat across the hall in the waiting area. Our sour moods had transferred to our children and there was continuous bickering. I scolded them off and on. The body had given in to the exhaustion of the mind. I saw some couples enjoying the waiting while some seemed hassled with the uncertainty. The events of the seven days had completely drained my energy.

Finally, we received the boarding passes. In usual circumstances, that would have been accompanied with a victory dance, but not that day. “The seats are randomly placed. So, you can sit with the youngest and I’ll manage the other two.” My husband informed me while he strapped the tags on. I was rather glad to have been detached from the scenario that demanded conversation and assistance.

We boarded the plane and separated as the seats were far apart. I settled in with my youngest son who immediately started to play with the control panel that managed the inflight entertainment. I buckled him up and allowed him that little freedom to remain busy. 

Normally I would worry about my children being placed independently without any help. But somehow, I just wanted to close my eyes and follow the departure of the plane leaving the baggage behind.

The flight took off and I opened my eyes. That’s when I heard a groaning sound. I looked to my side.

It was difficult to calculate his age. He seemed like a teenager. His mouth remained open with the groans becoming louder. He had a blanket covering his legs but I could see the deformation quite clearly. My thoughts came to a full stop. He had his parents sitting right next to him. I was looking at him intently but he seemed oblivious of that attention. The pressure in the cabin would incite him and he would begin to groan even louder showing his annoyance. The mother simply held his arm firmly and shushed him.

I placed my head to the back rest and felt deep helplessness. He could not move his arms or legs. His eyes were fixed on the table tray opposite him. They did not look around to observe the people or admire their energies. He could not stand up and take a step to feel a sense of achievement. His arms could not embrace the arrival of a new day.

The food was served. I tried to get myself busy with feeding my son who happily picked up his delicious buttered bun and started to enjoy it. 

The hostess had left a tray for the disabled boy and moved on. There was no motion. He sat gazing at the seat infront of him. His mother got closer to him. She held a towel in one hand and started to feed him. It was the most hurting spectacle that I have never been able to erase from my memory. His mouth remained open. There was no understanding of closing it with the food in. His saliva dropped along with food particles and very little went in. He didn’t know how to gulp it in and the mother kept on cleaning his mouth and filling it. She fed him everything that was on his tray. Most of it ended up on his napkin on the lap but nevertheless, she wanted him to taste it all.

By now, I had completely forgotten about my holidays. The trays were collected and lights were dimmed for people to relax for a while. I looked at the family. The parents were busy talking to each other, communicating about routine events. The boy was still staring at the seat. Then suddenly, there was a ‘chuckle’! His mother turned towards him and laughed at the sudden outburst. She placed her hand over his shoulder to give recognition to his emotion of happiness. I felt tears in my eyes. And I felt so ashamed.

My problems appeared petty in this young boy’s presence. My fears for my children suddenly felt un-necessary. My anger and frustration over a seemingly beautiful life just became meaningless. Did I even qualify to have any grudges? Life could have been just a groan or a chuckle. And then, would there have been complaints?

My life was a miracle. My children were an extension of that miraculous existence. I had enjoyed a playful childhood, discovered the pains of being a teenager, observed the determination of an achiever and had witnessed the blessings of living a worthy life. Yet I had not still learnt what it was to be alive. What it was to appreciate Allah’s creation.

The patience with which his mother fed him, the desire with which she helped him taste each and every food item, the recognition that she gave him for his groans and his chuckles, and the calm that sparkled on her face, made my forehead frowns all disappear.