Tale of the Dreamer's Son by Preeta Samarasan

Author:Preeta Samarasan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: World Editions
Published: 2022-04-08T15:01:47+00:00

Born-Agains

2023

After so many stagnant years our household is changing.

Slowly, Hana is losing her watchfulness. Her skittish distant manner. One morning before leaving for the market she even tells me shyly, “My reading is faster now, tuan. I read all the books several times already. Can finish one whole newspaper article. Sometimes cannot understand everything, but can read.”

So surprised am I by her addressing me voluntarily that I find I’ve frozen with my butter knife in midair. “Well done!” I say. “I’ll buy you a few more books this weekend!”

We stand there smiling at each other for a few seconds. Feeling ourselves turning turning turning towards the warmth and the light. We breathe deeper and slower. We look at each other with an unfamiliar mix of surprise and relief in our eyes.

Nowadays she leaves in the morning and comes back at night but she is nevertheless emptying me out and refilling me. She is the tiny beating heart at the centre of the house. At the centre of my days. At the centre of me. I had given myself up for dead but look: my eyelids are stirring my fingers are twitching. The great frozen expanse of me is waking up after what was only a deep sleep. When I hear her packing her lunch in the kitchen I go and prepare my breakfast to keep her company. Those few minutes of companionable morning silence are a balm to both our spirits. All the small intimacies of our routine! I leave the butter and the butter knife out for her after spreading butter on my bread. I switch on the hot-water dispenser. I put out two mugs. There is nothing unseemly about this: Mama and Ani have their breakfast later that’s all. I take out the pineapple jam Hana likes. I stir my coffee I tap the spoon against the rim of my mug three times I lay the spoon next to her mug ready for her. These small-small things make her life that tiny bit easier and I know watching the blur of her spread the butter and spoon out the Nescafé that she notices and appreciates the thought. In the hall mirror she pins and adjusts her tudung. Tucking in all the wispy hair that frames her face. Standing so close to the mirror that her breath steams it. Must speak to Ani about taking her to the optician.

Life is after all about trusting and believing. If you simply wait even the most arid soil will one day yield a sprout whose seeds you had no idea were sleeping under the surface. Now it has leaves now it has a tight bud now—you rub your eyes and shake your heads—it is blooming into something not of this earth. All the hothouse hybrids of history’s greatest botanists pale beside it. It is as lush as a peony and as bright as a flame.

Look at Mama: we all thought she was incapable of love but all she needed was time and patience.

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