My first attempt at a fictional story

Any remote association to a living character is purely accidental. All characters in this story are purely fictional


trngg.............

School bell rang....

He rushes out of his class, waving hands to his class buddies and with in minutes, finds himself on the bank of this river. This is the usual routine for him, he thought. He hurriedly leaves his book bag behind, unwinds his shoes and settles down as close to the shoreline as possible. He is so happy being there, looking at the waters flowing beneath his feet, still warm for the late afternoon, relaxing. The curative powers of warm waters cannot be better proved to him. He looks at the stray dogs that wobbles in the mud, and thinks, why its mom never scolded it for making a mess of itself.

The scene changes.. He continues to watch... After the dirty dog, passed by, an elderly woman and a little kid in tattered clothes come to the river to fill the wooden flask with water for the evening. They are very popular people in the neighborhood, as they are the only ones who wash and clean the public toilets everyday. It was their home and they had to do it anyways. He is sad as the little kid never gets to meet friends at school, as he does, but at the same time, he envies him, that he never Has to go to school.

A few years back, when he was younger, too young to find his way around, his mom and he would walk together to the river bank, play a little, listen to the stories the mom told him, play blind fold, skip around a rope - his mom used to maintain shape that way. Born with no siblings, his mom was his playmate.

As he walks down the memory lane .....

Sun descends on the horizon, as watches a beautiful sun set. Seems like, the sun gets lost inside the river, and rises itself on the other side after a nights journey underneath the river. As the dusk settles down, he picks his bag and walks a lonely long walk back to rest for the evening. He never speaks a word again. He is scared of the dark evenings, that unsettles him. The village so familiar to him, the screeches of the bicycles speeding by, to reach home after work and fresh "kolam" that adorns every doorstep is silent and strong on either side of him. As he reaches the verandas of his house, he hugs the old frailty figure waiting for him. After habitual ablutions, he prays the Thulasi for a couple of minutes. His mom has taught him the power of prayers.

Now it is study time. Imperceptibly walks to his room, opens the suitcase placed in the corner of the tiny room, and picks a picture that is freshly framed - holds it close to his heart, as tears run down his cheeks. It was his mom, smiling at him from inside of the frame and guiding his action every moment. As he holds the picture so tight that his mother is unable to breathe, vivid, heavy and grim memories of his mom being carried away by the doctors unreel. She was mentally sick. She had tumbled over, skid down and hurt her head, the previous night. That dusky evening, his mother unaware of his son's cries, smilingly walked with the men in white coats. He cried asking for his mother back. The villagers held him back. Days passed by and the villagers explained that his mom would be back when he grew up. There he stays, trusting the powers of his prayers, that he would grow up to see his mother back. He wraps the picture back with the crumpled cloth that is wet with his tears and places it back into the suitcase. He rushes back and hugs his caretaker granny once again.