My Mama Walked With The Unborn Me

Preface

If being honest, I don’t remember when exactly the Idea struck me. I believe that it rather slowly took form in my subconscious, like a child in the womb. But I do remember which event had sown the seed. It was the story of an 18 years old pregnant girl, Amanda Howard1, who fell into the lies of a seemingly generous but in truth a brute woman who, through social media, ensnared her into meeting her alone to gather the promised newborn’s clothes. It was a crime investigation television channel which broadcasted this incident. That pregnant girl was kidnapped and later discovered that her captor was preparing to steal her child through a forceful delivery and as she was tied to the bed, she was horrified by all those cruel-looking medical instruments placed ready there. Fortunately, the other woman who helped the criminal bring in the victim, gave up on the wrong side and called the police. In the meanwhile, the captor had beaten the mother with her heavy punches which made her swoon. She managed to stay hidden by the excuse of using the washroom. And she stayed there till the police came for help. And from there, it all started.

I am emotionally a very sensitive person and emotions as such deeply stimulated me. As time went on, the story developed to the point where I, at least, had a clear vision of the starting and conclusion point. It was in 2017, when I was in 11th standard, at the age of 15, that I first penned this story down in my diary, a mere two page flash fiction plagued with miserable grammar. And that too in the middle of the night somewhen around 1 AM, when the teasing whispery quarrel of my sisters woke me up. They thought I stormed out in frustration, my elder sister even tried apologizing to bring me back. But it was the story in my head and heart which had, at last, wanted to escape this cavity of my mind. It was also the moment when I first did what Writers do, WRITE. Knowing that I am writing as a Writer and not just merely writing. This flash fiction slowly in the course of two years, took the form to a full-fledged Novelette it is now.

I had been a reader even before I understood what it was or realized what I was doing. I just wondered that I somehow was good in the writing section of my exams. And later as I went on filling that mostly blank canvas of this story; the stories that I read alongside, left their imprints on me and gave further inspiration; by which while reading this story, you may find a direct allusion or two. I was fifteen when this concept had come to my mind. This book contains a lot of my beliefs, either directly or symbolically. I see life and world like a ceaseless and ongoing Story. I don’t remember a single moment when I did not see this life as a story being continuously written in my mind and the people around as characters who have a purpose, a role to play in this society, this world. And every event, every expression on people’s faces, the tone of their voices, the silent shift in their temper or current mood which I often describe as ‘A Shift in the Air’ and the unspoken things we do to keep someone from being hurt. All of such complex things keeps being registered in my mind in that language of my emotions and that which I use to write; and it all happens as if my mind is a typewriter recording all of it. CLICK! CLICK! CLICK!

I have spent long years with none of my kind around me. With me. And when I first came up with this story at the age 15, I was insecure of whether others will understand how I thought of it and processed it, let alone write it at 15! The Wait was long! Especially in this recklessly fast world, but I found courage, and people who understood and accepted, Me and My Story.