• wistful 5w

    A memory dances around my head like the zephyr playing with my hair ends curling up. Round pebble inside my palm is soft and rough at the same time. I spin it on my hand and go back to a long lost lane inside my mind. I'm pirouetting on my tiptoes at the widows, impatiently waiting for pa. It was late at night; he had promised me he'd take me to someplace I can't remember. I kept asking mom to call his office number. I was then, but a child of five. My mother didn't utter a word and went to her bed early. I was there at the window-side the whole night, as I watched the snowflakes cascading and crashing to the hard ground, waiting for pa to come home and take me in his loving arms.

    "Ma?" I open my eyes and realise it's twilight, past sunset. Unable to remember how much time has passed since I sat there reminiscing, I take Diya's little hands on mine. She almost whispers, "Ma, why are you crying?" I didn't realise I was crying, wiping the nostalgia away from my eyelids, I put a smile to cover it up. "Oh, Diya, it's nothing. I was thinking about your grandfather."

    She asks me, confused, "Where is he?"

    I reply, "Diya, look up", I raise my hand to the sky, pointing at the appearing twinkle in the sky. "He's one of them."
    "How did he reach there?" She questions.
    "He was in an accident," I reply.
    "Will he come back?" she looks hopeful. "Can I see him?"
    "No Diya, he won't come back, but he's still here, in my heart, forever."
    "So he's in two places at the same time? How's it possible?" her brows are joined together as she thinks of the possibility.
    I smile wide seeing at her ability to question things. I try my best to give her a reason she could understand.
    "Diya, you see, we take birth, and life ends someday. Life is an inevitable process that has been going on for ages. Something that starts has to end at a point of time. That's the policy of mother nature.
    And the end perhaps is a new beginning; a journey, a vacation, or s a never-ending process. We never leave the world wholly; we leave imprints of our existence and memories in the heart of people who loved us. We leave behind our accomplishments and love and words for our friends and family. I lost my pa to mother nature at a very young age; it took me a lot of time to accept the fact that it wasn't my fault that he was gone."

    Diya's face looked overwhelmed stretched with seriousness and maturity too much for a kid of 8. All she asks is, "Ma, would you go on a vacation like our grandpa? Ma, please do take me with you whenever you want to go."

    "No Diya, everyone has a different timing and different way of dying." I brusquely utter the words. Diya's face revealed she was disappointed. She puts up an idea, her eyes twinkling, "Maybe if we're in an accident together, then we can together go on a vacation." Her eyes twinkled as she put forward the idea.

    "No, Diya why don't you understand. That's incorrect. That's not the way you're supposed to think." My voice was raised and I saw tears filling in her eyes. "You don't love me, I know now. Do you know in school some call me adopted. I didn't know what it means. I checked in the dictionary. I know that's why I don't look like either you or pa. You don't love me, ma. You don't. And you cannot." Diya was crying with her palms on her face


    "Diya, I'm sorry. I love you so much Diya." I put my hands on her chin and made her look into my eyes.

    "It's just that I lose my temper sometimes. I'm sorry Diya I'm not a good mother. I never wanted kids myself but I found you on the side of the street, a certain night. I was 24 myself then. And I couldn't leave behind a child alone, in the street, in the cold at that time. You were three then, Diya, you don't remember it. But I still remember how my heart melted seeing you. I did some paper work and adopted you with my boyfriend, Suraj. I've tried my best to not ever let anyone make you feel not related to me. You're so beautiful and pure Diya. Ma really loves you."

    I see her smiling in the moonlight and her tears sparkling. She looks so beautiful. Night enveloped around us and a full moon shining brightly.
    Together we back home smiling hand in hand, not like mother and daughter, but as the moon and stars.

    ~������

    @my_cup_of_poetry what you've done today. The act of kindness, warmth and love. Sakshi I will remember you always. ❤️

    @oddball I'm proud of you ❤️

    #sangfroid_stories

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    Today silence is
    speaking
    what words could never convey.
    ©sangfroid_soul