WHAT TOMORROW HOLDS (PART 1)

“Mani!”

The sound of her name pulled Mani from deep sleep. She did not move at once.

Slowly, she turned toward the other side of the room, where Peddamma garu slept. In the dark she could make out the old woman sitting on the edge of her bed.

Oh no. I hope she doesn’t fall.

It was not the usual soft call. Peddamma garu’s voice carried a sharp edge of impatience. Something felt different. For a few seconds Mani stayed quiet and simply watched.

Then she got up slowly, switched on the light, and went closer.

Is she alright?

“Amma, do you want to go to the bathroom?” she asked the woman.

She squinted at the clock. It read ten.

That's it? Has it only been an hour since we had gone to bed?

“Just call him!” the old woman said hurriedly.

Mani stood still.

Who? Her son was not even in the country.

She looked at Peddamma garu, confused.

The old woman grew impatient. “Don’t you understand when I tell you something? Tell him to come now.”

Suddenly, Mani recalled an incident that had happened four or five months ago.

One evening, Peddamma garu had begun talking about her parents and insisting that she had to return to her village to see her family. For two full days she spoke of nothing else — the house where she was born, her brothers, the familiar streets. She would not eat properly or sleep. No one was able to persuade her otherwise.

Her son took her to the doctor, who said it was not uncommon at her age. Old memories often returned with sudden force. “Let her talk,” the doctor advised, “even if she's just talking to herself.”

During those restless stretches she asked again and again to sit among the plants in the backyard or on the front porch where people used to gather in the evenings. At night she stayed awake. Her son and daughter-in-law kept close watch, afraid she might try to rise alone and fall.

“You’re tired, Amma. Please lie down,” her son would plead.

“If you’re tired, you go and lie down,” she would answer irritably.

Only after two such days would Peddamma garu finally give in to exhaustion and drift off to sleep. She would sleep through the whole day. Her son and daughter-in-law would not even dare wake her to wash her face or offer her a cup of coffee.

When she finally woke up she was herself again, as always — calm, loving, as though the storm had never passed through her.

Those episodes made her son realize that he and his wife, both now in their seventies, could no longer manage caring for her on their own. He had heard of different service agencies that would send people, but as he inquired more, he did not like the fact that they would keep changing the people assigned to provide care. He wanted to find that one person who would look after his mother attentively and patiently for as long as she lived.

He asked Mani, the cook who had been with the family for more than twenty years, to find someone who could stay with his mother through the day and night.

Mani, too, had personally witnessed the changes in the elderly woman and the distress she would go through in her episodes.

Peddamma garu had always treated her like a daughter. Mani’s own daughter was married and settled elsewhere. She had no pressing responsibilities of her own. So she offered to take care of Peddamma garu herself.

The family felt relief at her words. Mani was very dependable, and patient and caring by nature. Above all, she was someone they had all known and grown accustomed to.

In a few months, they would need to travel to America for the birth of their grandchild. Until Mani stepped in, the daughter-in-law had worried that one of them would have to stay behind to look after her mother-in-law. Her sister-in-law had recently undergone bypass surgery and was still struggling to recover. Her brothers-in-law were already preoccupied with their own responsibilities and difficulties.

But with Mani there full-time, both of them could go. They had left ten days earlier.

Every day they video-called. Peddamma garu had seemed cheerful, telling them she was looking after the plants with Mani beside her.

The old woman’s voice cut through Mani’s thoughts.

“Come here and help me. I need to get up. We have to get everything ready for the puja. Everyone will be here before dawn. Did you set the curd? Boil the milk and get the coffee decoction ready. Come on! How will we get anything done if you just stand there?”

“I’ve already got everything ready, Amma. It’s not even dawn yet. Please lie down a little longer. You can get up when the alarm goes off.” Mani said, trying to reassure her.

“No. How can we sleep when there is so much to do? Get some hot water ready for my bath,” she said, trying to get up on her own.

Mani started to panic.

How was she going to get through this night? Peddamma garu was in no mood to listen to anything.

Slowly, she composed herself and brought a stool next to the old woman's bedside.

“Amma, you said your legs were hurting. Let me massage them a little.” She began rubbing her feet and legs gently.

Glossary
Peddamma garu = A respectful Telugu word for the elder matriarch of the household