The morning sun focused right on her face and that generated enough heat to wake her up. Every soul and every life on this planet starts the day with some struggle, and I don’t think we will have exceptions to this statement and she is no exception to that as well. She rolled-over to her right and grabbed the yellow bag which she kept last night and placed a void stare at it, as we all know, real life does not bring in a swivel wave in front of us for flashbacks, so without that she slips in to her good old days
My mom is one of the greatest human being I have ever come across in her life, never ever in my life I have starved even for one meal till she was with me, morning breakfast would be ready even before I scratch my eyes and try to open it to see the first glimpse of the sun. A quick shower, a quick make-up and a yummy breakfast would trigger her day and it goes on till the last hour in the school gets over. Mom sleeps all through the day and works all through the night and that has been her "work" culture since the time her dad died, and the reason for that kind of work timing is not to be understood by her at that tender age.
That yellow bag is used by her mom to store all the money she earned and that used to be her bed side all the time, mom was very calculative in her expenditure but never said a no to anything I asked for, let it be a red ribbon or a hair clip, or a lolly-pop, it was always approved, I love my mom for this. I have not seen her buying new clothes for her, I have not seen her eating healthy food, but I remember she taking a tablet every night before she goes to work, and comes back home the next day morning very tired, but she never failed to prepare breakfast or lunch for me, in spite of she being tired and weak.
Mom never allows me to come to her work place, she used to tell me, her boss is not a nice person, though I have not seen him in person, I started to hate him. Mom always complains of some pain, but I don't know what pain it is, she used to catch her stomach and then roll on the floor for hours, but I was too young to understand that pain and would stand still without knowing what to do, all I used to do is to go near her and then keep my little hand on her tummy and felt as if that is easing out the pain she develops. That is the only time, I have seen mom smiling and I too would reciprocate with a smile from my end.
Sun was up above and a screeching car and its horn threw me out of my flashback and the uncle who used to offer me biscuits and chocolates got down form the car and he took me with him to his house, he is a nice man, he takes care of me so well, I like him so much. He used to put some money into that yellow bag which I used to carry with me all the time, but I think I have to stich that bag, it got torn one day when one of that uncle's friend tried to grab it from my hand, but I somehow managed to pull it back from them, that uncle gave me some extra money that day to stich that bag, I told you right, he is a nice person.
I was wondering why that uncle took me to his house in the morning, usually he used to take me in the night and drop me back in the morning, today he gave me a very good meal to eat and after that I slept and did not know what happened, it was a very good sleep. I think I have to go to a doctor today, I am also getting a pain on my stomach and it is very bad today, and my yellow bag is full of something like blood, it is hurting badly. All I remember is that uncle sleeping next to me when I got up, poor uncle, he even forgot to wear his dress, and maybe he was very tired. I am very hungry now, and it is paining like hell, if my mom would have been here with me, she would have cured this for me, but uncle told me that mom has gone to meet GOD.
She started to count the little money she had in that blood stained yellow bag, and without she realizing what was happening a stream of blood just started to flow out of her and with few currency notes sticking in between her little fingers, her eyes went still and within hours a mob gathered near that platform where she lived, with that yellow bag hugged close to her semi-nude chest, a brutally tortured soul departs this cruel world, after all it is not her fault to be born as a girl child to a prostitute mom or believing an uncle who was kind enough to give her goodies.
The unlikely pilgrimage of Harold Fry
2 days ago