Myself, Uma

2 JAN 2005,   Makkasan Railway Station , Bangkok :

The sound of an approaching train must have woken me up. It was as if I had woken up from a long dream. I was seated on a bench and when I opened my eyes, I could barely recognize the surroundings – totally new faces, new people, a whole new country. How did I reach this place? Rather, my first question was – “Where am I?”.

A person – a young man in his late twenties, alighted from the train. I went up to him and asked him, “Which station is this?”

He asked me politely, “Khaaw Thoht”.

“Poor Guy”, I thought, “Doesn’t know English”.

This time round I started indicating with my hands – “What ….place ….is….this…..?”.

Silence. I repeated. Again Silence. Then he gave me a smile and told me in clear English, “Oh! For a moment I failed to understand that you are speaking in English. This is Makkasan Station. Where do you want to go? This train will take you to Bangkok Station.”

Bangkok? It was my turn to remain silent now. For sure, there was no Bangkok Station in India.

“You mean, Bangkok, Thailand?”, I confirmed.

“Of course! By the way, which country do you think is this?”

“I thought I was in India…………”

“You seem to be in some kind of trouble. Do you need any help Miss…………….”

Miss.. Miss……my name…I didn’t remember my name….. I was in a state of total shock. I didn’t know what to do.

“No, Thanks”, I mumbled and slumped back on the bench.

Later, it occurred to me that I could get some clue about my identity from my belongings. I desperately started fishing out the contents of my hand-bag, one-by-one, studying each one of them in detail. Finally I came across my identity card. Uma Powar. “OK, so I am Uma Powar. Powar would be a Maharashtrian…pann mala marathi yeath nai…”

“I am actually thinking in Marathi…..so silly of me……..Surely enough I am Uma Powar”

I had found my name. But still I knew nothing about myself. I checked up the inbox of my cellphone. There were many messages from Nikki. “Nikki must be my best friend!”, I thought. I immediately called up Nikki.

“Hello, is that Nikki”, I asked, sounding a bit circumspect.

“Uma!! Thank God! At last you called. We were all very worried for you. Your family is waiting for your call. We have even contacted the Indian embassy in Thailand.”

“Hey Nikki, do excuse me if my behavior is strange, just wanted to confirm – are you one of my best friends?”

“What are you asking, Uma? Of course we are! We’ve been studying together since Kindergarten”.

“So listen, Nikki, I have lost my memory and currently the only thing I know about myself is my name. I don’t know how it happened. Please tell me how I landed up in Bangkok”

“You have become victim to Tsunami that occurred on 26 December. You had gone to Thailand for pursuing formal education in Fashion Designing. As far as I remember you were planning to visit Phuket on 26^th December. Then on that fateful day, you were stuck by Tsunami. I’ll right away call your family and inform them about you”.

“Don’t let them know about all this. They’ll be worried. Just tell them I’m fine. I will call them. You need not take the trouble By the way, what are my parents’ names and if I have any siblings, what are their names?”

“Your father Mr. Murali Prasad Powar passed away 5 years back. Your mother’s name is Sarla Powar and your sister is Kamini – 5 years younger to you. Your date of birth is 5^th Feb 1983.”

“Thanks a lot Nikki. See you soon”.

“You better pay a visit to the Indian embassy and tell them you are alright.”

I went to the Indian embassy in Thailand. Since I had lost my Visa, Passport etc, all these were remade without any hassles. Since we were all tsunami victims, neither the Thailand nor the Indian government wanted to complicate things.

Later on I called up my family and told them everything was alright. Nikki had already told my mom that I had called her up. But luckily enough, she had not said anything about my amnesia. She asked me why I was so late to contact them. I replied casually that I was lying unconscious in some unknown hospital and hence the delay.

A week later I reported to Bangkok’s Fashion School. I made new friends there and started my life anew. I was quite good at fashion designing. I always used to top the weekly tests and my professors always made special mention of all my assignments. I used to wonder, “How a person who could not even remember her name be so good at her work? Or was the talent God given?”

Three months later in April, one fine morning as I was having my breakfast, I felt like puking. I first thought it was food poisoning. But when I had the same vomiting sensation the next morning, I visited the doctor. The doctor after some basic examinations gave me the most shocking news – I was pregnant. The news was painful. With great difficulty, I had come to terms with my amnesia and now this. Immediately I called up Nikki to ask if I was going around with someone before leaving the country.

“You had a steady relationship with a guy – Ricky. Just before you left India, both of you called off the relationship.”

“What about him? Where is he now?”

“He is married to one of his distant cousins”

“Nikki, I am pregnant”

“Oh no! But I don’t think both of you could have…”

“Forget it! Give me a solution. What should I do now?”

“Better call up your mom and tell her everything”

That is exactly what I did. But my Mom could not stand this. She straightaway disowned me. She asked me never to talk to her and slammed the phone.

The doctor gave me an option to abort the child since I was only into my fourth month of pregnancy. But I was determined, though my boy friend had wronged me and my own family was against me, that I would go ahead with the delivery. The child would give me a reason to smile.

Then in August, my daughter was born. I named her Kajal. She was registered as Kajal Powar in her Birth Certificate. After a year or so I married my colleague and close friend Stanley Yeoh. I was in constant touch with Nikki. Nikki advised me to bury the hatchet and call up my mother. But I was reluctant. After years of separation, my mother had also mellowed down.  Finally, she called up one day and asked me for forgiveness. She was really growing impatient to see her grand daughter. I promised her that I would pay her a visit the very next month.

 

January 8, 2007:

I spent some anxious moments in the cab on my way home from Delhi airport. I was wondering how my mom would react on seeing my daughter and my husband. I finally reached my home in Mayur Vihar. The nameplate outside read – POWARS. I started knocking impatiently. A lady in her early 50s – probably my mom, opened the door. She stared blankly at me – she looked at Stanley and immediately called out – “Are you Uma’s husband – Stanley?”

Stanley nodded affirmatively.

“Where is Uma? I don’t see her. Hasn’t she come with you? Is she still angry with me? Who is this lady? Is that Kajal in her hands?”

“Mom”, I said, “What happened to you? I am your Uma.”

“Do you mean to say that I can’t recognize my own daughter?”

“Please call up Nikki. Nikki knows it all”, I started pleading.

“In don’t need Nikki’s assistance to recognize my daughter. But still if you insist……..”

She went outside and called out Nikki. She was our next door neighbour. Nikki came and started asking. “Where is Uma?”

I was shattered.

“Nikki”, I said, “When I had lost my memory, it was you who gave me my identity.”

“Oh! It is you who had called me! From what you had said, you were confident enough that you were Uma. I just gave some details about Uma,” Nikki replied.

“What is going on? What is all this? What is this about losing memory,” my mother demanded.

When I told my mom what had happened that day and how I had called up Nikki from the cellphone, all of us got a clear picture of what had happened. I was not Uma Powar. But I had got Uma’s Identity card and belongings somehow. I could even handle my career in fashion designing with great ease.

The truth was harsh but strangely enough, it was still the truth.

Now the question remains – what happened to Uma? And who am I? I still don’t know my origin, my birth place. I just know that I am an Indian, a Maharashtrian who lost her memory. Going further, I don’t know who the father of my child Kajal is. Did I have a husband who fell pray to tsunami, or, is he still alive. Or is it that someone took advantage of my unconsciousness. I don’t know the answer of any of these questions. The only thing I know is that I have a loving husband, Stanley who accepted me as Uma Powar – no matter who I am. Today I am a successful fashion designer – Uma Yeoh living happily with my husband and two kids – Kajal Powar and Kiah Yeoh.

Whenever I visit India, I make it a point to pay a visit to Sarla Powar – my mother, the mother who lost her daughter but found another in me.

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