Hush.

Maaji and Bapuji were talking in the balcony while I was just trying to unwind by going online. For starters, that's how I call my (paternal) grandparents.

Then Ahmad (better known as Fad, and no, I am not talking about Faris), my fellow YouthSayer, came online. We were talking for a while and I felt insupportable. Sometimes when there were things which reminded me of mom, I just felt like crying. And so I did.
Then, after talking about our musical capabilities (he does the guitar and the drums) - I somehow had the freedom, the urge to express myself that very moment. I wanted to be mom's drummer girl. And while I was typing these messages out, I cried. Then, he asked me, how would it be like in that room where the drums are ? I visualised it. Then he sent me the "sketch" - well - it is an almost accurate sketch of the common room. Only that instead of single, the bed is double-decker - the first deck is for two people while the top deck is for one. And the bed is right next to the wall.

Oh, and those are the two pictures Fad "sketched" with his touch pad - he uses a notebook PC. And while sending me these sketches, he told me something - and it struck me.
"God has a unique way of connecting us - without wires."
And at about 6:30, I turned on the amplifiers, picked up my drumsticks and hoped to show the world how I felt that evening.

"God has a unique way of connecting us - without wires."
"Her soul is still there, watching over you, nurturing you."
"She will always be right beside you. Just close your eyes and play."
"Never mind if you do cry - just play. Go on."
"She will always be proud for having such a talented daughter."
"Your mom left for this world, something more valuable than money - YOU."
"Mom said you're a fighter."
"I always imagined myself as mom's drummer girl."
"You go, drummer girl."
"She is and will be with you by your side. Believe it."
"She loves you."
"Make her proud."

All these quotes crossed in my head ; I had no qualms about going against Narin's words. The common room was hushed. The first blows on the drum were heard :

ba-dum.

In no sooner than two seconds the door was closed, and what I felt was more than those usual rushes of adrenaline in the bloodstream. This one was heartfelt ; whether it was just an 8-beat or a simple rhythm on the toms or a fast-paced rhythm fit for Taiko Drum Master, it had enough power to make the room shake. And with every beat, I cried. And whilst I was still pounding on the drums, I wondered if...... mom would ever be proud of me. The common room was empty (except for me, of course). All the silence of 6:30 p.m. was just broken by drumbeats.

By the time I had finished, I heard the gate opening - Narin came back.

I had no regrets about playing the drums that evening. I had no regrets about crying my heart out. I can't help but shed a tear or two whenever I think about that lonely evening. But this is the way a drummer's heart beats, just like everyone else's - it beats even if the drummer cries. Those beats are for mom, and they always will be. I told Fad, when I came online later, playing the drums relieved me a little, but they made me cry a lot. After all, a week after I got my drum set and Aunty Jas and family came over to our place (in late April), mom sat by me, on that bed, to see me do my first beats.

My fingers are trembling, even as I type this text. I wish she could appear to me, in a dream perhaps - and tell me that she is okay.

Mama, every beat I do is for you.