DISABLED

"Yes?" she asked as she couldn't catch what she said. "Your food is turning cold. I will help you feed," Maria said and sat beside her on the bed and began to take spoonfuls of porridge to feed her. The ceramic bowl reminded her of the one she had at her house of her parents. The bowl was almost as same as the one engraved in her fainted memory with borders of red and blue flowers. It was almost like a deja-vu. Her mother also once fed her porridge in a nearly same bowl. Her eyes trailed from the white sheets of the bed, to the bowl in Maria's hand, the spoon that she held out for her, Maria's arm and all the way upto her face. Oh, how much she wished her ammi was staring back at her with a smiling face. "Please, I don't want to eat," Her throat clogged, "please," A small breath teared through her lips as her chest was tightening with pain. Pain of losing a beloved. Her eyes welled up. She hadn't felt sick but now recalling the old times, she fell into an abyss of depression and desola