a vase of bones

}~prologue~{

a taciturn darkness surrounded me,
is this the world of the blind ?

mehrin's father, baba,
as we all lovingly called him,
always recited that,
wherever you fall, wherever you fly,
there is allah

where is your allah now baba?
why has he abandoned me here?

or is this what my mother called the after life?
could one possibly die without being aware they did?
I kept my hand over my chest ,
I could feel the cool layer of sweat that had settled over there.

I could feel a beat, but a hesitant feeble one.
I could feel the blood gushing through my heart,
a spiritless one.

I am alive.
yes i am,
but just alive.

so maybe this is how the world of fear and angst looks like?
with a silence so deafening,
that it would trade the tiny bits of courage and hope holding on to what is left of your soul,
with,
just more fear and agony.

I was unable to identify who was more powerful,
the agitation my chest carried or the blistering pain in every inch of my body.

an increasing restlessness emerged from my mind,

I felt distraught

water filled up my eyes and it slowly started flowing down my cheeks
along with a ringing sensation at the back of my head and,

a memory flashed from afar,

~~§§~~

" indira, appadi illa ma, adhu thappana ucharippu."
the evening was approaching and the sun was going down and the skies were turning into blasts of yellow ochre and midnight blue in the corners,

while,
my mother caressingly stroked my hair and moved them behind my ears,
correcting my pronunciation of the wordings, for what might have been the millionth time.

then she kept the slate aside,  and asked me to recite what she had just taught me,

and so i did, loudly,

"achchamillai ,achchamillai, acham enbathu illaiye,
ichchakathulorellam yethirthu nindra podhiulum,
achchamillai , achchamillai , acham enbathu illaiye!!!"

amma's face was full of contentment
she clapped her hands soundlessly and pulled me inside her warm, protective arms.

there is no comparison to a mother's pride for the smallest achievements of her child and mine was no exception.

she exclaimed,
"ahhhha idhu ippo enga irrindhunga vandhichu?eppayume manasu kuduthu padicha, ennaikum marakave marakaadhu, puriyidhungala?"

"seringa amma"

she smiled lovingly
and embraced me tighter,
dissolving me into her endless motherly affection
as she kissed me on the cheek whispering,
"ennoda samathu indira chellam"

~•~

that was when I was 4 years old, nevertheless I remembered every detail , fresh and new, like it had just happened a few minutes ago.

I could see amma,
in her kandangi saree,
I could feel her holding me in the darkness.

I called out ,
no one responded
but then i could hear her,
like somebody shouting from the peak of a mountain,
a mountains of memories.

I could hear her calling me,
"ennoda samathu Indira chellam"

I could feel her warmth and her crisp fragnance of  sandalwood.

I remember hugging her so tightly all the time that the kanakambaram flowers on her hair would always reduce to petals,
but she wouldnt even care to complain.

my beautiful mother.
where are you now?
where will I find your protective arms?

dreaming about my mother brought me back to the first valuable lesson she taught me,
to dictate my fears.

nothing was supposed to destroy me,
unless I let it.

and here i was,
afraid to move because of the fear of breaking myself by a silly gesture,
my fear of falling into a much odious abyss,

my fears being an accomplice with each other.

at the face of survival,living truly looks like a luxury in memory.

so I just lay there hearing my mom call for me

I closed my eyes and dreamed of all the beautiful things that this universe had shown me all these years,
all the enchanting encounters with unforgettable people, I had lived,

somewhere I had read that,
'the past isnt dead its alive,it's happening at the back of my head'

and well said.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

song playing~

           unnai kaanatha kannum kanalla
                                    by P.Susheela