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PALLAVI

"Why are you standing over there? Come here." Mom calls out to me, while I stand and gape at her, astound on the clips that were just played in front of me. This isn't the first time I'm seeing mom being verbally abused, I have seen cases far more terrible than this, and the past episodes had been crueller than Prometheus being bound in chains and the massive eagle eating up his immortal liver every single day.

But of late, the non-stop repetition of events like DNA replications has started to bother me, each step filled with concern I walk closer to mom.

"Why are you looking at me, as if I'm the president of our country? " Mom smiles as if she has just won the lottery and my thoughts get tangled like a plate of sticky noodles.

"Aren't you upset about what he just did? Dad has been so importunate, how can you always stay so optimistic, mom. You need to shed a few drops of tears when you are broken because there is nothing wrong in being a bit vulnerable." Mom chuckles, making me look like an old-school professor trying to enlighten a dull student.

"Let's go out, some cool breeze will clear your thoughts" the next moment mom is holding my hand, storming out of the house, I try to reason with mom that I'm in my pyjamas and would need to change, Ignoring my constant fidgeting mom locks the door, with a secure grip of my hand.

The truth is, the gush of strong winds passing by made me forget about my entire identity, I feel like a seven-year-old whose fingers are woven together with moms on the way to get some candy because I have just seen my friend have one and would do everything in my power to get the exact same candy. For a moment, worries drifted apart like waves washing away the castles and houses we build near the sea-shores.

"Enjoying it?" Mom breaks my swirl of thoughts, and I realise that I'm no longer a kid craving for candy but a grown-up lady, who's trying a lot to act like one. Are these thoughts of uncertainty a part of growing up?

"Yes mom, you know how I feel right now, that these winds are constantly running, sometimes their movements are slow in a way we don't even realise their presence and sometimes they are so fierce that their presence stiffens our bones and muscles.

There is a similarity between the breeze and us mom. Do you know what it is?" Her forehead shrinks; mom is deep in thoughts, her thin lips part every few seconds to utter some words, but shove that idea away and stay aphonic.

I give up comes her answer, a frown settling on her face and a smile arising on mine.

"Have you ever wondered why they constantly keep moving? If you have then you could have easily answered my question mom.

They are constantly trying to run or atleast crawl do anything at all to make their presence known to us, just like we try enormous modes of actions to mark our presence.

Every single day a post, a quote, a selfie, a video or a dish you just mastered apart from all these we delineate our differing emotions, if your sad: post, your happy: post, you feel absolutely nothing: post, to whom are we indicating or expressing ourselves? Why couldn't they just talk privately to the people who actually care about them?

According to me, photographs are a medium to freeze a moment and embrace it for yourself, in such a way that you reminisce the moment every single time you see it. Even if millions of people across the world notices, it makes no difference because you were the one who lived the moment and they would never know the triumph you hold.

It's my personal opinion so what are we trying to do here, post anything at all from random stuff to something incredibly remarkable we constantly update in order to make sure our presence is noticed, and in addition to that...