I was in a state of shock on seeing my mother after the surgery—half conscious, eyes closed, lips quivering, innumerable intravenous tubes protruding, electronic devices checking heart and pulse rates, saline and blood bottles attached like appendages. “Let her have the comfort of your touch,” the doctor told me. For the last 30 years, her touch took away my restlessness and disquiet. My hands trembled, fearing my fingers might hurt her body, already troubled by the intimacy of life-saving devices, disease, exertion. “Eat well. Take care of yourself,” she murmured. I touched her gently and whispered, “Get well soon, ma!”
Sreelekha Chatterjee is a researcher and an editor. Her short stories have been widely published in various national/international journals, magazines, and in several print anthologies. Facebook: facebook.com/sreelekha.chatterjee.1/ Twitter: @sreelekha001 Instagram: @sreelekha2023