Yashika T Khanna

She had kind eyes but weathered hands. Wrinkles around her eyes gave away her age. She had draped herself in a worn-out beige saree but it would’ve been evident to anyone that she was a beauty in her age. Her body bore no ornaments and her silky grey hair were rolled up in a messy bun held together by a few bobby pins. Her brows were furrowed, her spine slouched and her knees were bent. She held the baby and stared at it with concern, not knowing where it came from or what to do with it.

Dementia had been diagnosed a few months ago. She didn’t remember how many months ago, though. Her son and daughter-in-law had suggested that she move away to the locked ancestral house and she had agreed. She remembered the day a few weeks ago when they had left her here. The cracks in the walls and the leakage in the pipes barely managed to conceal how old the house was. Rodents in all dark corners and the chipped paint had been no relief. But she had known that it was essential. It had been an absolute necessity to move here. To be closer to the elders who had passed away.

She looked around for her husband but he wasn’t there. Days when he would appear at her every shout were long gone. How long gone? She did not remember. And now this baby.

The baby looked like it was a few months old. Wrapped in a spotless white suede blanket and sleeping quietly. Its chest heaved up and down. The old woman still couldn’t remember how it had got here. It reminded her of someone. The shadow of a newborn that hadn’t lived to see even a full year crossed her mind. In this very house, at a time that felt ages ago. The shadow felt like a fragment of her. But she wasn’t sure.

Suddenly she heard wailing. A woman seemed to be screaming at the top of her lungs at a distance. The heart-wrenching screams sounded like someone had ripped her heart right out of her chest. The voice was distant, but audible. The old lady quietly kept the sleeping baby on the rickety bed and closed the door. She couldn’t stand the noise and the pain that engulfed it. Something had stirred inside her but she didn’t know what. She did what she did best in these situations, and there had been many – she went to the living room, spread out a bed sheet on the floor and slept.

When she woke up the next morning, the baby was gone.