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Authors: Renita D'Silva
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into them. I retrieve them roughly from her warming grasp.
‘Goodnight,’ she says after a bit, and walks away, quietly shutting the door behind her.
I do not inspect the books. I turn off the light and lie on the bed, on top of the sheets and duvet. I lie there and stare at the ceiling, white, undulating, unwavering until my eyes hurt and the tears that I have been holding back so desperately come in unstoppable waves.
Master Puppeteer
Vani
M y darling Diya ,
How I miss you! Here are just a few of the things I yearn to see again:
1) The way you scrunch up your nose when you are thinking.
2) The way you know just when I am hurt or upset, and you crack a joke, cheer me up.
3) The apple and strawberry scent of your hair.
4) The way your head fits snugly in the curve of my shoulder, the way you throw yourself at me with abandon, the feel of your arms around my neck.
5) The way you wait for me to get home from work, curled up on the sofa with a book, your eyes lighting up when you see me reflected in the glass of the window as I let myself in.
6) The way your smile starts as a twinkle in your eye which then spreads outwards, your lips inexorably lifting like they have been pulled by the string of a master puppeteer. Your eyes crinkle and your face folds into itself as giggles of mirth escape your lips, like birdsong heralding dawn.
7) The way when you open your eyes in the morning, they search for me and when they alight on me, they are inundated with contentment, awash with happiness.
8) The way you bite the end of every single pencil or pen you use.
9) The way you always misplace your keys.
10) The way you eat Maltesers, licking off all the chocolate until only the crisp centre remains, biting into the kernel last, allowing the sweet crunchiness to explode in your mouth. The way your tongue sweeps the outskirts of your lips after, aiming for any chocolate you might have missed.
11) The way your face runs the gamut of expressions when you are reading.
I could go on and on, my darling. The thing is, I miss everything about you. You are growing without me, eating, sleeping, talking without me and I resent every single minute of our time apart.
How are you?
‘A stupid question, Mum,’ you would say, were you here with me, rolling your eyes, that expression in them that says it all.
What wouldn’t I give to see your animated face, to hear your voice now! But, my darling, I genuinely would like to know. You see, Diya, for the first time in your life, I don’t know how you are. And it is killing me, the not knowing, the not seeing, the not being with you. I hope you have kind people taking care of you. I pray for that. I dread to think of what you must be going through, how you must have felt that first morning when you woke up and searched for me and I wasn’t there. I am sorry, my sweet, so desperately sorry.
I have told my solicitor everything in full detail. He is asking for a DNA test to be actioned. He has set the process in motion, the first step being to check if we are eligible for legal aid as I cannot afford to pay for the test.
Diya, I know you will be worrying about me, but I am all right here. I am. I hope, my darling, that you forgive me for what I am putting you through now, for what I did then, for everything I took away from you. I suppose this is why I did not tell you the story of your past, our past, the whole sordid truth – one, because I thought you were too young, and two, because I was scared. Scared as to what you might think. Scared that you would ask to go back. You who were always so happy, so content with me and with what life threw at you. You who packed at a moment’s notice when I said we had to move, picking up your box of books and your bag and saying, chirpily, ‘Let’s go’. You who have made me so very proud. You who deserved so much more. So much that I couldn’t give you but she would have.
I love you, my darling. I hope you don’t ever doubt
‘Goodnight,’ she says after a bit, and walks away, quietly shutting the door behind her.
I do not inspect the books. I turn off the light and lie on the bed, on top of the sheets and duvet. I lie there and stare at the ceiling, white, undulating, unwavering until my eyes hurt and the tears that I have been holding back so desperately come in unstoppable waves.
Master Puppeteer
Vani
M y darling Diya ,
How I miss you! Here are just a few of the things I yearn to see again:
1) The way you scrunch up your nose when you are thinking.
2) The way you know just when I am hurt or upset, and you crack a joke, cheer me up.
3) The apple and strawberry scent of your hair.
4) The way your head fits snugly in the curve of my shoulder, the way you throw yourself at me with abandon, the feel of your arms around my neck.
5) The way you wait for me to get home from work, curled up on the sofa with a book, your eyes lighting up when you see me reflected in the glass of the window as I let myself in.
6) The way your smile starts as a twinkle in your eye which then spreads outwards, your lips inexorably lifting like they have been pulled by the string of a master puppeteer. Your eyes crinkle and your face folds into itself as giggles of mirth escape your lips, like birdsong heralding dawn.
7) The way when you open your eyes in the morning, they search for me and when they alight on me, they are inundated with contentment, awash with happiness.
8) The way you bite the end of every single pencil or pen you use.
9) The way you always misplace your keys.
10) The way you eat Maltesers, licking off all the chocolate until only the crisp centre remains, biting into the kernel last, allowing the sweet crunchiness to explode in your mouth. The way your tongue sweeps the outskirts of your lips after, aiming for any chocolate you might have missed.
11) The way your face runs the gamut of expressions when you are reading.
I could go on and on, my darling. The thing is, I miss everything about you. You are growing without me, eating, sleeping, talking without me and I resent every single minute of our time apart.
How are you?
‘A stupid question, Mum,’ you would say, were you here with me, rolling your eyes, that expression in them that says it all.
What wouldn’t I give to see your animated face, to hear your voice now! But, my darling, I genuinely would like to know. You see, Diya, for the first time in your life, I don’t know how you are. And it is killing me, the not knowing, the not seeing, the not being with you. I hope you have kind people taking care of you. I pray for that. I dread to think of what you must be going through, how you must have felt that first morning when you woke up and searched for me and I wasn’t there. I am sorry, my sweet, so desperately sorry.
I have told my solicitor everything in full detail. He is asking for a DNA test to be actioned. He has set the process in motion, the first step being to check if we are eligible for legal aid as I cannot afford to pay for the test.
Diya, I know you will be worrying about me, but I am all right here. I am. I hope, my darling, that you forgive me for what I am putting you through now, for what I did then, for everything I took away from you. I suppose this is why I did not tell you the story of your past, our past, the whole sordid truth – one, because I thought you were too young, and two, because I was scared. Scared as to what you might think. Scared that you would ask to go back. You who were always so happy, so content with me and with what life threw at you. You who packed at a moment’s notice when I said we had to move, picking up your box of books and your bag and saying, chirpily, ‘Let’s go’. You who have made me so very proud. You who deserved so much more. So much that I couldn’t give you but she would have.
I love you, my darling. I hope you don’t ever doubt
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