You are alone in a crowded place, you see your friends in a corner drinking cheap beer and laughing, you want to go there, but you don’t want to go there. You are tired of their shabby comments on your looks, tired of their opinion of what you seem to do in life. It feels like they are crossing the boundaries, taking control of things that belong to your persona. “Hey Samara, over here“, you are too late, they call you over to share their drinks. Alas! how do you tell, you don’t like the taste of that cheap beer, and you hate their mean comments.
“So I went to this party..“ He rambled about the number of friends he had in his life. “How many friends do you have?”, he asked me then.
I started counting on my finger, “one, two, three, four and five“,
As I counted my friends on my finger tips, he started laughing looking at my fingers telling me how unfortunate I am. But my one question shut his mouth when I asked him, were all your friends there at your lowest point of life?
It took sometime, about 8 hours of long labour; and 2 hours of consistent pushing. But I finally came out crying.
I don’t remember anything of that time, but while going through my childhood pictures, she told me the story of how we first met.
I was 2 kg, timid little girl with pink flesh and tiny hands held in her arms with her soft eyes gleaming at me. She couldn’t stop smiling, “I love you my baby girl, forever and always“, that’s what she told me. Tears rolled down her cheeks as we both sat down looking at the images, I knew she would take a bullet for me, and I would do the same for her.
To all the mothers, whose selfless love is beyond this universe, who scold but care, who slap but spare, thank you for teaching me the meaning of life, being there for me, waking up till 2 AM, making me coffee during my exams.
You are our Superwomen, and we adore you for your sacrifices and unconditional love.
PS: I am dying to listen to your stories with your loved ones. Please share your special memory with your mother in the comments below.
In continuation of The Dreaded Desires: Ignorance It was the freshman year, when Shrey first saw Myra, a timid girl with round rimmed glasses, a Batman crop-top, blue jeans and open hair. She was scribbling in her notebook, paying attention to the Raman Effect in the first bench. She was the typical geek who unintentionally attracted attention. Even her long hair could not hide her assets from the hungry eyes of the typical boyish population. On the other hand Shrey was a small town boy with dilapidated dreams in his eyes, his sabotaged aspirations were the sole reason for the initiation of his first smoke, his first drink and his first friendship. Myra and Shrey were best friends, nobody knew how but they were the creators of bewilderment. People usually catcalled them as the geek and the stoner.
No one’s at home today, this is my chance, hurray! I’ll use the bed, be comfy and put the blanket overhead. Not like the other times, where the behind freezes over the tiles. Pornhub, redtube, forhertube, youporn, which one to see? Asian, Chinese, big front? No, this time big ass. I stream the video and pull out my little brother; which is going to be huge in sometime. The noises and the moans makes me arise, I close my eyes; and imagine Miss Malik with a ruler; and glasses with that sexy dress.
I was 13 and I was exposed to this sudden release then. Pornography epidemic it was, which gave me a burst of dopamine with no regrets.