Small Hopes for Futures - a fan fiction based on the God of Small Things.

 Opening the door to our shared hotel room, I saw Ammu's bag lying open on her bed - her kerchief stuck out, in such disgusting form, full of phlegm, as though taking up space, forcing every passerby to take notice and question their invincibility and expose their fascination with the macabre. 

To back up my deductions, I heard her loud coughing and looked up to see Ammu Ipe walk in, all flushed face and red eyes. She had been crying - I braced myself for the version of the Trapped animal that Ammu forgot to tame in herself. Lately, it was becoming so hard to live with her. She was sick and reacted with such poison to my queries of home and whereabouts and general pleasantries that I had stopped trying.

I did not even bother to smile - just walked up to my bed and waited for her to clear the bathroom. She was walking back with her change of clothes when the fateful falter happened. I reached out instinctively, steadying her. But Ammu seemed to be in need of stronger support than another pair of hands - in the few moments I Looked into her eyes, I could see a small figurine running away from an apparent deadend, towards the illusion of uncertainty - with lovers and children and hopes of a future, a future filled with Love.

 

I helped her sit up and gave her water and time to regain composure. "Thanks", she said. That was a first - subdued Ammu - I looked twice to check if she was mocking - reading deep undertones to my gesture of help.

"Sughamaayo?" I asked as an extension to the gesture. She replied with a blank stare which freaked me out a little. "Ammu? Enthenkilum onn parayenne, ithiri koode vellam taratte?"

This time, she replied with tears.

"My children must Hate me! I'm a dreadful mother! Who stakes their children for passion? Njan avarude jeevitam nashippichu!" 

I sat down next to her, confused about how to react. I decided to give her the time she needed to open up if she wanted to.

Slowly, she let me into her world - one that was rudely restricted by circumstances - an egoistic father, a biased mother, a brother who shared only the blood, a husband with whom wedding vows literally treaded troubled waters, her children, her finite capsule of Infinnate Joy - Velutha.

As the words ran dry, Ammu's tears overflowed. 

I reached out and pulled her into a bear hug. Her tears must've triggered the cough, she trembled violently and spat phlegm all over my shoulders. The next moment was a brief distraction - some embarrassment to gloss over the terrible tragedy. She apologised and offered to wash the clothes for me - she recounted her daughter's look of horror and distaste at the dinner table that day when she coughed and spat up phlegm - her feeble smile powered by the blade twisting her insides.

Ammu's opening up left me in a dilemma - I was about to switch rooms the next day. The weight of conscience was new - I wasn't aware of Her yet. Now that I was, it felt like abandoning her. But it was final - I was moving and within two days. 

I decided to get it over with - Words tumbled out uncoordinated from my mouth , incoherently into her ears. She did not seem to be very much affected - considering what she went through, this must seem like a trivial mosquito bite. 

But sometimes mosquito bites can be fatal.

Two weeks from then, I received the news of her passing from the hotel staff - how she had lain deprived of help or affection in her last moments,how her longings for her children left her aching and her unfulfilled passion for Velutha pushing her desperation to pry death off herself. I don't think the hotel staff saw any of this - because like all things Ammu, this too was Loudly Subtle.

I still sometimes wonder if she would've lived to open her school and bring her son back, had I endured and stayed on for a little longer. I try to crowd out the thoughts with Ammu's version of Penance accounting - you balance your recklessness against every inch of searing doubt. I feel clammed. 

I sense someone behind me - turning around, I am looking at a girl of almost 10 - a girl, whom I can See will grow into the skin of her mother.

I greet Rahel with a smile. I want to talk. It is a little cold, a little wet, a little quiet, the air. But what is there to say?

**Attempted as a Fan fiction - an unrealistic subplot to the God of Small Things. Consequently, some quotations {"Infinnate Joy", "It was a little cold..... Is there to say?" etc.}, characters and names adapted directly from the book. In no way a replacement or summary of the original book**