Every time she is about to bathe, she finds it difficult, to touch the water, to be in the bathroom. She finds it difficult to take a bath. The water in the tub reminds of her of that day in January, seven years back, it reminds her of that day when her world, as she knew it fell apart in a matter of minutes.
That day in January, seven years back
Her older kids were playing on the terrace. One was eight, the other seven. Kids are kids and kids sometimes think that some things are fun, kids are curious and in innocent curiosity the older child got hold of a knife and stabbed the younger one. Once, twice, thrice. He was curious. It was fun.
The seven year old screamed. Screamed out loud.
She was bathing her youngest of two years in a tub. She heard the scream. She ran three floors up, anxiously calling out what was wrong, why are you screaming dear child.
His brother lying in blood, screaming in agony, the oldest child knew he had done something wrong. He heard the mother come upstairs. He did what any child would do to escape a scolding. He jumped off the third floor terrace.
After those few minutes
One died on the grill, other with a knife in his stomach and the youngest drowned in the tub.
The world went silent when he told me the story. She finds it difficult to bathe now, he tells me. He sips his beer, he takes a drag. I am scared, I want to hug him.