Jig-saw puzzle

                                        

“life is like a jigsaw puzzle, you have to see the whole picture, then put it together piece by piece!”

― Terry McMillan, A Day Late and a Dollar Short

She was a picture of concentration , staring at the pieces , arranging  and rearranging them till she felt satisfied and was convinced of its right placement. The tick tock of the needles was audible but she chose not to hear its strokes even when hunger pangs crunched her insides.  The maid would remind her of meal times.

Piecing together the irregular shapes of the jig saw made her realize how cruelly life had dealt with her. She had lost a major part of her childhood and  circumstances made her graduate to an adult too early in life. If only the adults had behaved pragmatically and displayed some degree of maturity , she would have had a complete family and not resort to  hide  the sordid facts about her mother.  

She clearly remembered that fateful day , 3 years ago , when her mother handed a bunch of papers to her father and picked up her bags to make her way out of the house. Her father pleaded her to stay for the sake of their daughter and society. But it seems that she had made her mind. 

She hid behind the curtain , scared and confused but could hear every word exchanged by her parents. Her tender nine year old mind could not clearly fathom the reason for her mother's sudden departure and her father's helplessness. Their raised voices exacerbated the situation , the neighbours sensed the tense situation and were craning their necks from the windows and balconies.

The house was engulfed in silence. But her mind screamed a thousand questions. When her teacher extolled  the virtues and the selflessness of a mother and the reasons for revering and elevating her to a goddess , she wondered why her mother did not possess them.
When her teacher asked to write a few lines on her family she felt incomplete. She missed her mother and longed for the tender touch and envied her classmates.

The ladies of the housing society would pity her and whisper in hushed tones about the scandalous affair her mother had with her much younger lover. Their low voices resonated and echoed in her ears till  they left an indelible impression in the folds of her brain. Her classmates never broached the topic of her mother.

Her father though broken in spirit tried his best to give her a normal childhood .

Her solitude was her constant companion. Even in the midst of her classmates she felt lonely. Her own voice was a stranger to her. 
She found solace in the cardboard pieces of the jig saw puzzles , interlocking and tessellating pieces  to assemble and form a larger picture. With each assembly of the jigsaw picture , she increased the difficulty level drowning in them , her insecurities and sorrows.

If only I could piece together all the fragments of my life to form a bigger , clearer and a happy picture, thought she.

                                                    FOR : WRITE TRIBE