I reached the Delhi airport at around 5 p.m. I could see people swarming around here and there. I reached the counter and got my boarding pass. My cell phone rang. On the other end was my wife, Viji.
“Hello, Viji.” I said.
“Yeah, hello…everything okay there? When will you be back? Over here, both your darlings need coffee that was prepared by you. They are sending out invitations for the best coffee prepared by their dad.”
To taunt her, I said,”No worries, Viji. I shall brew them some tomorrow morning.”
I think she snorted. “Yup, once I master the art of filter coffee, I will do it as well. Despite cooking, well, the entire Indian cuisine, this filter coffee… is driving me nuts.”
I smiled. Within a fraction of a second, one of my twin children, kayal, took the call.
“Appa, when will you be back?” Nobody would believe that this was the voice of a 20 year old girl; very childlike.
“I will be there by night. We shall have coffee together tomorrow.”
“Great Appa…”
“Where is kathir?”
“He is watering the plants”
“Take care kayal…I will be there, bye.”
“Bye, Appa”
Before I entered the flight, I once again got a call from my wife.
“Viji?”
“Nothing, I thought I’d remind you abo…”
“Ammu’s birthday. I will never forget it Viji. I will look into it. Bye”
I entered the flight with the greetings of the air hostess and took my seat. Before takeoff, as I settled in my seat, my past memories came flooding me in gasping flashes. 7 years ago I had only seen a plane up in the sky. This dream materialised with the help of one of the most mentally strong women I have ever seen, my wife Viji.
She was with me all these 24 years. I had a devastating experience two decades ago. We were both left speechless and felt that our souls had been sucked out of us. But to forget that traumatic experience and move on, Viji was my driving force.
I was served a sandwich. As I opened the ketchup sachet the tomato sauce spurted out and hit my eyes. The guy next to me handed me a wet tissue before the air hostess turned up.
“Eyes are very important, sir”, he said with a smile.
“Yes, of course”. I smiled.
“Well, I am Arul Amudhan” he said.
“I am Ilango. I am a businessman. You are?”
“I am a doctor, sir” he said with a little twinkle in his deep, beautiful, confident eyes.
“And your specialization lies in?”
“I am an ophthalmologist”. I found a beautiful relationship between his eyes and his profession.
“You give people their vision. A priceless boon”.
“Yes, sir… I am actually returning from a Conference about organ donation. We have a long way to go. Thing about organ donation is this, if we want our beloved ones to be with us we should seriously think about donation sir.”
As I watched him talk I knew he had experienced something personal which made him speak about organ donation the way he did.
“What made you feel and think this way, Mr. Arul?”
“Arul is fine, sir.” He smiled. After a breath, he said, “Because I was visually impaired for a while…” I again looked into his deep, beautiful eyes.
“It all happened when I was three. I lost it due to an accident. In August 1994 I underwent a corneal replacement surgery”
“Sorry, arul” I added.
“I not only got my eyes, but also my name” he said with a smile.
I looked at him questioningly.
“My name was only Arul, sir. But the name of little girl who donated her eyes to me was Amudhini. Usually, anonymity is maintained with regard to the donor’s details. But my parents came to know the name of the girl through a hospital staff who was familiar with the donor’s family. And in her remembrance I was renamed Arul amudhan.”
I felt a feeling that cannot named. After a deep breath, I said, “Thanks for sharing, Arul”.
He smiled with his eyes.
“Take care, sir”, he said and we both exchanged our cards.
I returned home. After the dinner, we planned to celebrate Ammu’s birthday.
Kayal and kathir gave their ideas that always worked. We had everything prepared for the birthday, except for my heart and that of Viji’s.
Yes, Ammu was our daughter. She died 20 years ago. A cherubic two year baby. We were devastated by this loss… We were never able to overcome her loss in our lives.
It was Viji who comforted me. I knew her pain and losing a daughter is worse than hell. But she put up a brave face for me and said that Ammu would be living somewhere…as a different soul.
After her death, I used to stare at her clothes and cry. I kissed her little shoes and comforted myself saying that these were her little feet. There were times when Viji asked me to move on. We tried to forget our traumatic past. Someone said,” Time is the greatest healer”. Kayal and Kathir were born, life went on, and I gained a respectable position in the society.
I looked at the wall…Ammu was smiling at me through a photo. Fighting back my tears, I went to bed.
After dawn we went to an orphanage where kids prayed for my Ammu’s soul. We spent the entire day with them. It was nearly 8 pm when we returned home.
After dinner Viji was cutting some apples, completely lost in her thoughts. I called Viji and my kids and decided to talk to them.
“Your sister ammu will be living somewhere, kids. Let us give her the best birthday present”
My children looked into my eyes.
“You both are 20 now. That makes you both eligible for organ donation… So why don’t you go for that? But, it will be your decision. I am not forcing you” I felt my voice, heavy, like a pebble on my voice box.
I saw Viji. She was lost in herself.
I then noticed kathir and kayal’s moist eyes. They chorused,” love you, Appa”. Without saying anything, which meant everything, they moved to their beds.
I looked at Viji, sitting on the sofa. I held her hands before she threw her arms around me and cried bitterly. I comforted her.
I saw the photo of my baby, amudhini, fondly known as ammu, on the wall.
She smiled at me, I saw an angelic glow in her eyes.
Text by Urudhimozhi
Article 19 