Resurgence

Chapter 2

Now
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His mother once asked him why he ran miles and miles and miles. Shravan doesn't remember what his excuse was. He is certain that he said that was his only way of staying fit when you are a law graduate or that he didn't want to join the gym due to odd timings. But Shravan runs miles and miles and miles because it's the only time he allows himself to grieve.

It's the only time, the burden of responsibilities hovering over his head like a grey cloud ready to burst, slips down his spine and rests under the safety of his blankets. It's the only time, he is not diving head first in quicksands of difficulties but floating with every steps he takes. It's the only time, he is himself — not a man spiraling in adversities, not a son bound by responsibilities, not a lawyer climbing the ladder of success — he is a mere shadow escaping the realm of contradictions and reality.

Shravan relishes the sound created by the loud stomping of his shoes on the floor, the burning of his lungs from the impending lack of oxygen, the way his mess of a hair slap against his forehead with every movement. The young boy inside him would steal the chance to escape with open palms, refusing to let go. He appreciates the ability to defy the wind and reign in the gravity. And he doesn't stop till his legs are tired from escaping his shadow.

It's a strange escape from reality, the physical exhaustion is palpable and still it restores his heart with faith and patience and on the way back to the home made of red bricks, he collects remnants of one thing or another.

The best and the worst.

Gentle sunlight warms his face, slipping in from the tall windows of the living room. On tip-toes, he cautiously makes his way inside the house, careful not to make any sound. The floor cracks under the weight of his feet and he is left immobile for a moment, eyes clenched and bottom lip between his teeth as he waits to hear shuffling that would indicate any kind of movement.

Nothing.

He sits on the adjacent sofa, making sure that it doesn't creak under his weight. A sigh of contentment escapes his lips as his eyes take in the sleeping form of his mother slumped on the leather sofa, book in her lap and glasses still perched up on her nose. That complete sight of her.

It never fails in making him feel like he has achieved something of great importance. That somehow he gave her courage to rise again.

Being the lightsleeper Nirmala is and sensing someone's scrutiny on her, it takes seconds for her to rub the remainders of sleep from her eyes and then she is staring at him with a questioning glance through half-lidded eyes.

"Happy Birthday," He whispers softly.

Slowly, he replaces the book on her lap with a box wrapped in a decorative paper. At first, she seems startled and confused but it's soon replaced by a spark of recognition as she tears delicately through the decorative paper.

An album of pictures stares back at her, each moments of her life etched on the pages, writing a story of its own. Her first steps as she holds her father's pinky. Her first day of school, her eyes dancing with mirth. According to her parents, she was a bright child since the very beginning (it was a point of contention between Ramnath and her, both wanting to take credit for Shravan's academic excellency). Her first date with the love of her life. Her wedding, still the happiest day of her life. The birth of her son, the happiest day of her husband's life. 

She lets her fingers slide through the pages, her eyes marveling at the intricacies of life, at how fast time flies.
A blink of an eye and a whole world is turned upside down. But, she has learned to cherish these moments of lingering sadness and she appreciates these droplets of joy and grief that drench her face times to times, a sharp reminder of her many losses and her many wins.