Dear Diary ,
If you ever plan to visit my slum, I would request you to take a right turn enter the third lane from the left and knock the wobbly door of house number three. You would be greeted wholeheartedly by a wonderful woman Gyatri . This lady single handedly raised her son Shyam. She took two jobs at once and spent her entire life on her child with such devotion that he isn't a resident of Dharavi anymore. He owns a flat and is a reputed worker in his factory.
When Shyam was little he and his mother would spend hours playing with his precious doll house . He always reserved the best room for his mama doll . Times and tides have changed since then , both have taken a sever toll on this pious relationship. The boy who once respected his mother so much had no room for her today in his luxurious flat.
My story begins from that foggy night when Shyam was resting in his bed and suddenly his phone rang. The call was from a local government hospital . They informed him that his mother was admitted here and her condition was critical. As the line got hung up a single tear trickled his cheek. A wild tempest of memories came gushing in Shyam's brain. He reminisced those joyous moments he shared with his beloved amma. When the realisation stuck him that no matter if he was short of rooms his amma always had a special place for him in her heart. He picked up his coat and rushed towards the hospital.
When he reached their , doctor ran through all the tests. He held a copy of her ECG in his hand and stood there bewildering at it . Shyam's mother's case was a curious one.
The doctor failed to comprehend the tiny edges of a mother's ECG.
For always in her heart , beats another.
- yours truly
Piku
YOU ARE READING
Confetti
General Fiction1st position in "blue rose awards 2019-20" This isn't an average tale of serendipity. This novella entails the predicament of an aspiring writer piku, who finds her self in a catastrophic situation after her mother's demise. It encapsulates the ess...
