Where I come from

My mother has been the silent pillar for me. To the level of taken-for-granted, she has stood there since I could remember, always backing us up. When I saw her fall, and fall apart, I felt gripped by fear : of losing everything that I stood for.

For most of it came from her. My existence, my soul.

2012 had been an awkward year for me. Somehow it stripped me bare in many ways. I lost friends, I got into absurd situations, and then some. I had the best festive season till date. My grandpa died. I saw relationships tumble. Mine went through a horrendous patch. Somewhere, I had changed forever in a year. I knew I could never be the same again.

Mom was writhing in pain. Her wrists were swollen, her head resting on my sister’s shoulders. The taxi was whooshing past signals. I was sitting by the window, trying to figure out just what had happened : the safety of the cocoon she had built slowly around me had shattered in one violent explosion.

2013 started with stripping me naked. A thought which was frightening. Who knew what would come out of 26 years of veiled memories, and darkness?

It only worsened after we reached the medical center. Amidst people who were dying and had to get their limbs amputated and suffered a heart attack or a fatal accident, my already cornered mind started getting haywire. I felt helpless, sandwiched between the fanaticism of my own thoughts and the mortal despair.

The x-rays told us both of the wrists were broken. It was an infinite wait for the next day, where an orthopedic would see her again. She had to bear the pain for a full day. With tired eyes, she looked at me.

“How do you feel, Ma?” I choked.

“So much pain” She answered.

I wanted to see her back to her own self again. No matter what it took. No matter what it asked of me.

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