Why did she go?

Daddy’s princess she was, she was just three when god had sent for mommy. She had hardly grown the bond with her, when she had to let her go to reach up to the heaven. The heaven, daddy told her, was beautiful than the house they were living in. Thus, Anya was happy that mommy had gone to a better place to spend the rest of her life. She was however unhappy that she won’t come back to live with her and daddy, as heaven would be her only abode now. Daddy would take the little Anya in his strong arms and would drive her through swift swings, singing her a lullaby which Richa would sing for their angel. The moon was up high, and Arsh was missing Richa, he was robust  enough to render uninterrupted sleep to Anya while carefully wavering her in his arms; still had his eyes filled with saline droplets which obstructed the vision to the moon making the sweetness of it blurred. Arsh was broken inside but had courage to hold his angel to face the toughness of life as a daddy ahead. Every night would come and Anya would be told the story of a fairy. The fairy who came to their house and took his hand into hers, she showed him how beautiful life was, she taught him how to take care of Anya, she blessed the family and went back to heaven. Anya would listen to the story and asked why did she go and how she looked? The same question at the end of this story every-night had nothing to offer to Anya in return. The little angel would remain unanswered when she asked daddy about the fairy, “Daddy, what is the name of the fairy, how she looked and why did she go back”?

 Days had gone, and now months were passing by, the ritual of mourning over the loss had to be broken as another rule of life and the time had come to attend to the routine. Anya would go to a preparatory school, and Arsh would leave for office while dropping the kid to the Montessori. Lunch hour at the office would let Arsh overhear the husbands discussing over the expertise of their wife’s hands at Aloo Parantha or Biryani. It happened daily, Arsh would be reminded of the noise invaded by the steam of the cooker when Richa would cook lunch for him. He smiled as the flashback started of the times she would be worried unnecessarily over petty matters of sharing his lunch with office mates and never having enough himself; or worrying  whether he liked Shahi Paneer in the lunch or not? Who thought this would be a memory in the present, and would be so important to him a matter unlike its pettiness before. He munched over his piece of bread-butter, had his cup of tea and was back to work.

Anya was at the baby-center as usual in the late afternoons and would be having children of her age around and thus was happy. She would be cranky at times and cry for daddy and would ask the mistress to call him. Time was passing this way. Sharp at six thirty daddy would come to his angel and she would run, with an amazing speed and cling to the tough shoulders of her daddy, as if this air she inhaled of daddy’s scent had saved her life. Arsh would kiss her forehead and observe her dark brown eyes sparkling and the beautiful curls of hair she was getting as her mother had. Arsh would take Anya to the park, would be one among her friends and laugh with her till she got tired of it. The months were passing by and she was growing up to senses. She was being sensitive to her surroundings as she would see her other mates being fed by their moms, being scolded and pampered at the same time, being dressed in their best of Barbie’s and Dora’s collections, while poor daddy would collect the heaps of the same but never had expertise of accessorising the angel as a feminine hand would craft it. Anya was now getting bored of the same fairy story and was disappointed with daddy as she never got an answer to her question as a routine. Richa existed in the collection of the photographs Arsh had put all over the house on all the peach colour walls, both of them had done. Anya would now observe daddy caressing the beautiful hair of mommy every time the peach wall would be passed by. She would smile when daddy would kiss the pink flush on mommy’s cheek and then would pull on his angel’s chin and wink at her. Life was not easy, there were dreams to be fulfilled for the future with this kid, but it were mere memories they were living in.

Days changed to months, and time passed by. Today was 20^th of March it was Anya’s day, the day when Richa had given birth to this angel 12 years back. Richa was nowhere to be found but kept looking at her family, saw them grow together, it were the peach coloured walls in the house on which her photos hung. The peach walls were their garden, the orchid of the father and the daughter, which was most fragrant in the house. Her friends came, and the table got flooded with the gifts. The girl didn’t open any of the gift wraps; all she wanted was to unfold what she could never get hold of. She was not going to demand of anything as a birthday gift even after Arsh’s constant asking. All she wanted was the answer to the fairy-tale she had been listening to for years. However, she had grown up enough to know that how the fairy had looked but ‘why did she go’ still remained a mystery…..