Milan- Rawte Brothers Book 1

19. Their Anchor, Their Mother

What is that one place you could stay your whole of life?

For Atharv that place was none other than his mother's arms. They were back home couple of ours back. He would given a all clear chit by the evening and was discharged soon enough. Her gentle arms presently caressing him taking him into an ally where all he found was brightness. For him there was only one meaning of love- his mother. Her embrace taking him in its safety heaven ensuring a forever of tranquility. She was his anchor and what ever he was today it was only because of one women who stood by him when the people out there never did. She rubbed his tears away when she herself was crying, she held him when she herself was broke smiled for him took all the pain she ever could just to see him happy. 

His mother was a force a reckon in her usual form. The same way she was caring and extremely selfless she was also a warrior who fought tooth and nail and proved that there was no problem worth running away from. She believed in facing them however they were. When her kindness was treasured by the world her bravery was a proof to the scars her soul have been a witness to. His grandfather always spoke high of her but there was one thing which was contrasting. The girl he described was full of life who lived her life according to her way. The girl on whose face smile was always an endearing ornament. She wore her heart on her sleeves. She was like a wind which would be like a gentle breeze touching your very soul until you provoke her. If you provoke her she was a storm you would never want in your life ever. 

But the women he knew was an uncrowned queen who never excepted anything wrong from anyone. She was no more the girl who wore her heart on her sleeves rather her heart was a closed book a mystery for no one to walk through the lanes she walked once upon her life. She was no more the women whose smile was a treasure rather her smiles were hollow, a show put up by her to make the world believe of her happy life. From the time he was born he had seen his mother walking on the thorns so he can walk on the petals. He remembered the time when he preferred staying in his shell his mother did everything she could do to make him come out of it. She fought with the world who called him names, who saw him as emotionally week not by standing for him but teaching him to stand for himself.

'Ek baat humesha yaad rakhna Atharv kisi ko bhi mujhko bhi tujhe nicha dikhane ka koi hak nahi banta aur yeh hak dena tera haar hi nahi balki teri bewakoofi bhi hogi, bacha teri achai apni jagah aur izzat apne jagah hai izzat se badkar kuch nahi hota mera bacha samjhe ' 

He clearly remembered those words whispered to his very soul when one day he found it better to surrender than fight his case. His mother was so mad and why... because he hadn't punched the boy who tried to bully him. His mother would have shown him stars in daylights had not her experience to stay calm. That day he learned a very bitter lesson. Fighting was far better than hearing your mother's infamous talks. 

He felt his mother moving and slightly opened his eyes peeking from the blanket as she walked out of the room her stance screaming her discomfort and stress and he sighed seeing that. He could bear anything but that. He clearly knows the look on her face. That was the same look when he had went into shell. The look of shattered, broken and above all defeat.

Avantika walked out of the room and went towards the her room before she fell on the floor crying her lungs out. She once again saw her child in the way she would never want to. She had went through this feeling once and couldn't help it at that time but going through it again Avantika couldn't bared the guilt etched to her heart. Her son might have forgot the night but she clearly remembers the day crystal clearly scaring her to the core.

A shiver ran down her spin at those haunting memories which had left her shattered. That one incident changed something inside her permanently. She wanted to forget it but scars imprinted on the exterior could be healed but the scars on the heart would not wash away easily. She fisted her dress shivering slightly when she was embraced in a warm embrace and the first wave of peace hit her but unable to accept the sudden change she protested. She was not used to getting the warmth making her wary of it. She protested but the hold was never loosened it was intact neither suffocating not easy to leave. It felt stable, a sense she highly needed but never voiced out for she was scared of false hoping. When her protest fell into deaf ears her drained self dared to look up at the person who stood for her when she was busy wallowing herself in those nightmares, the shackled which had caught her so hard that her limbs heart but more than that she was hurt and broken. She looked up to see those concern filled pair of her eyes as her own eyes filled up with tears. She fisted her savior's collar feeling the dire need of something constant as she sobbed again not being able to keep herself calm.