“Mirror on the wall

Speak now to me”
Shamita pushed back the hair from her face and opening her eyes slowly she looked at her reflection wincing at the ugliness of the scars on her face. Her hand hesitantly touched the healed wounds and she whispered bitterly, tears in her eyes. “How could this have happened? What was my wrong?”

“Don’t cry, fair maiden.
You are beautiful within
Your soft eyes
and kind heart”
The mirror seemed to say, comforting words that alone could not erase the deep pain.
What could?
The days passed, slowly for her, with just the television, books and writing in her diary. Her mother held on to hopes that she would change her mind to do the plastic surgery and move on with her life. But Shamita did not, determined to win the battle over her fear, just like she did to save her life.
“One day,” she mused, “I will walk the catwalk of life with a new face but it would be with the inner strength that’s solid as a rock and a new confidence no storm can wreck.”
New beginnings were sketched by fate.
From the shadows of her loneliness flickered a light that grew brighter as each new day passed, little hands reaching out for her. The two little children Aiden and Aashi, motherless since three years ago, felt a magical attraction to Shamita and often they would stop by with their fluffy terrier, Crystal, bringing fruits for her or asking for help with their homework. Artwork pieces they did at school, they brought for her, not ever mentioning their mother and Shamita did not ask, until one day, when they brought home baked cookies for her.
A few were burnt and Aiden remarked jokingly,
“My dad is not too good at baking, poor fella.”
Shamita couldn’t help smiling and he answered with a little drama,
“And she smiles!”
She shook her head amused, the smile staying on her lips and Aashi asked,
“Can you bake chocolate chip cookies?”
“Yes I can,” she answered.
“My mom used to bake awesome cookies.” Aiden said.
“Why doesn’t she now?” Shamita asked before she could stop herself.
A fleeting look of sadness crossed the boy’s face and holding his sister’s hand, he said quietly,
“The Angels took her to Heaven.”
“Oh!” Shamita exclaimed softly, not expecting to hear that answer and looking at the two motherless children, she forgot for those moments, her own tragedy, touched by the sad look on their faces and she hugged them, “I’m so sorry.”
Late in the afternoon, their father came for them but she did not step out of the door, standing by the window and pulling back the curtain, just a little. He stood by the gate waiting and he saw the slight movement of the curtains. A slight smile played at the corners of his mouth, pleased she was making progress with that little show of interest.
Her name became such a great part of the home now. He felt as though he knew her personally. The children spoke of her with a glow on their faces, “She’s nice,” said Aashi, “She has pretty brown eyes.”
“She knows to bake awesome cookies,” Aiden added, pausing a little before continuing, “Just like mom.”
The father froze in what he was doing and for a long moment did not say anything. The children, waiting with bated breath then he said, with the hint of a smile, “That’s nice.”
He did not sleep much that night, the children’s words playing over and over in his head, knowing how much they missed having a mother.
Aiden knew her a little but Aashi did not know her at all.
For the three years since she was gone, he had never thought of another woman, so deep was his love but now, a new name has entered his thoughts, someone whom the children were attracted to, who in their little hearts seemed special. He was uncertain though, how good that could be, for the seclusive young woman was battling with her own problems.
“Please Lord,” he prayed, “You took away a mother from her young children, please let something good happen now.”
Further down the street, Shamita laid in bed, sleepless too, thinking of the children. She just couldn’t get their sad faces out of her mind when they told her their mother had gone to Heaven.
“Such a great loss,” she thought, “Their father must have been…”
She turned her face in the pillow to shut out that thought, not wanting to feel too concerned for him but the close connection the children and their terrier had with her, would bring the father into the picture no matter how far away from her she wanted him to be.
One late morning, whilst the kids were at school, Crystal ran away from home again and Shamita hearing the barking opened the door for her. Not a long while later she heard a car at the gate and knew it was the children’s father looking for the terrier.
“Come on Crystal,” she urged the puppy, “You have to go.”
The puppy lying on the rug, as though she belonged there paid no heed and Shamita picking her up gently let her out of the door. She had hoped the puppy would run to her master but she didn’t and Shamita opened the door a little, insisted on her to go.
He was standing, patiently at the gate waiting and not until she stepped out on the verandah did the terrier run to her master. He raised his hand a little to say ‘Thanks’ but she turned and closed the door behind her.
“This is getting too close,” she complained to herself but rewinding the lost fragments in her mind, seeing him standing at the gate, a man with casual good looks, the fear was not as intense as before.
It was happening, like she said, one day at a time, reflection on the horrific attack and a stalking fear, fading.
She took off the veil and cut her hair a little so it partially hid the scars on her face.
A change had begun, much to her tearful mother’s relief and now, since that fateful night, she saw her daughter smile for the first time, her dull eyes, reflecting a little interest of life.
“Thank you dear Lord,” she whispered, “You have sent two angels into her life, to heal her wounds.”
The sentiments of the children’s father were no different for since his children met Shamita, something changed for them. They were now, more cheerful and seemed happier, not because he hadn’t been doing a great job but in their young lives, they missed the love and care of a mother, her soft voice, sweet smile and her compassion, something blessed.
He stood on the upper verandah of the country house, looking out into the dark night, a cool wind blowing in from the farmlands, ruffling his hair and absentmindedly pushing it back from his face, he thought,
“I wonder how she’s progressing with her life. She seems to be nice and kind yet sad.”
She had shut the world out from her life, not wanting to see anyone or speak to anyone so he could not know of her inner beauty, selfishness and warm personality. But the children with their innocent minds and pure hearts recognised her for who she was.
Their father though, a man with a kind heart who had shown his wife love and care could not cross the gate to the house to talk to her, such was her distrust and fear.
But fate had designed their lives to cross for their life stories were similar, the intrusion of tragedy of a different nature, leaving a trail, like scattered leaves, of sadness, fear and loneliness.
Neither knew yet how much they needed each other to exile the loneliness and fear for dreams never die and love was waiting on a threshold as a pattern that would bring them close was being drawn.

(To be continued).

(By Maureen Rampertab)