And then there was she...

One foot before another. Not too fast. Just one step at a time. The door seemed too far away. One foot before another. Still too far away. Had to take a break. Looked around to find a chair. Took turns in looking at the door and the chair and guaging how far she was from them. Trying damnest to determine which was closer. The door looked like it was a good 12 steps away. The chair looked more like 5-6 steps. But the light was known to play tricks. Making objects appear closer than they actually were. Now that seemed like a familiar line. Where did she read it before? oh! Legs felt like they were going to give away in a minute. She wished she could sit down then and there. But she could not. Reason you ask? Because she would not be able to get up by herself if she did that. She stood there for a few seconds completely confused. What was she doing in the middle of the room?

She looked around. Everything was out of focus. She felt like she was in the middle of nowhere. Tears began to form in her eyes. She had no idea what to do. Her legs were about to give away. Her walking stick shook. She wanted to call out for help, but the words struck in her throat. The world seemed to whirr around her. Her stick feel making a clanging noise. That brought someone out. She could not determine who it was but she was picking up the stick, one had steadying her frame. Slowly she was walked over to her chair. She could hear some mumbling. She wasn't able to make out the words but could decipher the tone of it. Exasperation. Frustration. The tears that had formed earlier started to slide slowly down her hollow cheeks. Cheeks that once had been full. With high bones. The bones still remained the same, but gone was the fullness, gone was the beauty. What remained was a hollow shell. Just like herself.

The next thing she knew she was rocking in the chair when the urge to go to the bathroom hit her again. Now she remembered what she was doing earlier. She sank back. What to do now? Should she make the valiant attempt once more or call out for help. Both the scenarios sent shudders through her tiny frame. She closed her eyes trying to gather all her strength....


She could do this. It was just a matter of concentrating. She had been reading books all her life. Surely the words would stay in focus and not float about as they were doing if she paid attention. Maybe she ought to bring the book a little bit closer. Maybe turn it towards the light a little more. A little more closer. Ah! The words seemed to be lining up now. She bent her head a little more and slowly the words made more sense. Her joy knew no bounds as she drank the stuff in. 'Look at her...holding the book as if she is going to eat it'. The remark had made her stop making any more attempts. But she did not care anymore. Did not care how the world mocked at her. She had for all her life but not anymore. She was just happy that she could still do some stuff by herself. And that gave her more satisfaction than anything else. Finally! She had broken off the shackles. It had taken her a good 85 years to do that, but she had done it. She had been forced to do it. She just could not afford the luxury of doing things taking into consideration what everyone thought about it. Just the fact that she could do it was enough. She felt a pair of hands as a gentle but firm voice said..."Let's go in your room, Ma". She heard some noises later as she slept. A party going on maybe. In the house she lived in and she was not even invited. She managed to turn around and sought the refuge of a sleeping concious.

"She is doing it again..."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Well because it has happened a couple of times already."
"Maybe its the real thing this time..."
"That's what we thought the last time. But was it? Even the doctor's say that she is doing it for some attention..."
"You are right"
"I know I am. So let's get back to watching the movie..."

Her eyes bulged. She could not believe what she was hearing. Acting to grab attention? What was the world coming to? True, the last couple of times had been false alarms but how could they be so sure it was the same this time around too? Were they doctors or something to decide that for her? And what kind of doctors were these that would down the trauma of a patient to some rule in the book. She wished she had the strength to tell that young doctor off. What experience did he have anyways to diagnose her. She was sure going to make a fuss about seeing the doctor the next time around. Meanwhile the constriction in her throat managed to grow. Her thoughts seemed to have kept it away, but it was back. Back again to almost choke the life out of her. Her hands went to her throat trying to ease the pain. How many times the same hands had tried to ease the pain in others and now they worked feebly to do the same for herself.

She was so sure of it. The doctor wanted to kill her. No question about it. Why would he be prescribing so many drugs if that were not so. What was so wrong with her that she had to depend on these medicines to live? Wasn't she right in creating a ruckus whenever it was time for her to take some medicines. And it looked like it was time every single moment. Time to take her medicines. She could hear the footsteps getting closer. She sat up defiantly.
"You are acting more and more like a small kid!"

A small kid. Her small kid. Who used to turn up his nose whenever he'd catch her coming after him with the tonic. How she would have to run around the house after him, catch him, wrestle him and pour the stuff down his throat. He would throw a tantrum and then she'd have to bribe him with a lot of promises of good things to come when he would get better. She smiled as she thought of her little child. She looked up to see a grown-up man standing at her bedside with a glass of water. The same unruly curls. The same proud expression.But what else did she see in there. Annoyance? Vexation? Or maybe even anger. She slowly took the medicines. It did not matter if the doctor wanted to kill her or not. She already felt dead.

**The End**