The unexpected death of her husband, the accusing
fingers of her in-laws and the loss of will to live,
throws Bose into a world, more real to her than the
physical word.



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Not Alone


Many People wonder why some other persons do things under the table. They wonder why they do strange things; things that makes the authorities dump them in a psychiatric hospital. I wrote this story today with the hope that when I die, someone would see it and understand that I enjoyed my life as a supposed lunatic than I would have, as a normal person.

About 14 years ago, I lost my husband, Michael. He was the most caring man I had ever met. Living with him, I would say, wrongly changed my mentality about the general issues of life. He was rich and caring. I no longer knew what it meant to want. I no longer knew what it meant to be lied to or lied against and disrespected; after all, no one did such to a rich man's wife.

I lived life thinking there was no more pain in the world. I believed everyone had it as rosy as I did. Little did I know that my husband was protecting me from untold hardship. He loved me so much, he protected me from the wickedness men showed to each other.

I cried my eyes out when he died. People consoled me; telling me to take heart but, I could not. The most painful part of it all was that I was not able to give him a child before he died; be it dead or living, boy or girl. I had no miscarriage nor did I miss my period. There was not a single attempt at conception. Like that wasn't cruel enough, he had to die too.

For days, I was so lost in thought; thinking about him and wondering if I could go on without him.

Three days after the death of my husband, his mother-whom I had called immediately after his death- came in with some members of their family. At first I was happy that I would have loved ones to console me and me them. I thought I had loved ones who felt and understood to a large extent, the pain in my heart. I did not need people who would will say. 'I feel your pain', when they actually felt nothing. They had not the slightest idea what I was going through.

On seeing my mother in-law, I ran to greet her; leaving our pastor and his wife who were consoling me, as well as my friends, two, who were there with me.

'Mama!’ I wailed, 'Michael has left me alone...He left us ooo'.

'Shut up!' Michael’s mother screamed. 'You witch! You killed my son because of money...You have killed my only son'. She sat on the cushion and quickly rose again; rushing forward to attack me.

I was taken aback. I opened my mouth in surprise to the false accusation. For a moment, due to too much grief, I lost my senses. Only to regain and lose them again when my mother-in-law's fist hit me.

I never knew I had fainted, because immediately I received the blow, every one around disappeared. Within seconds, I saw Michael coming into the room with the same dress he wore the night he died.

'Ah! Michael, Michael." I cried. 'What happened? Why did you leave me?'

'I did not....

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