It was a special night, the whole house is lit with candles, bright lights, flowers sweets and lots of smiles. Her son is coming from afar the next day. She is Oh Lord waiting for many days for this day. The jasmines that adorns her hair haven't faded yet. Their perfume still haunting the courtyard before her ... ''The speciality of the baby was it used to urinate on every guest and give that wicked wink while the embarrassed guest headed to the restroom to clean up their miss, when she held him he'd give the same wicked wink and baby laugh & that was the one thing that made her smile the most''.
Tranquil and delighted is she Oh Lord, adorned with bangles and jewellery to celebrate the day. The multi coloured bangles lit the night like a rainbow against the flames of the many candles and the courtyard is filled with flowers and gifts awaiting his return. ''The butter jar was wide open & he'd disappeared, the little boy was a clever thief and butter was his favourite steal, he'd cry wolf in the village as she ran to tend her cows while he stole the butter and ate them. However rather than being angry, she was happy as that would only make him stronger & he could never be forced to eat food''.
She enters the altar like a Goddess wiping her tears with her saree, bedazzled in joy she thinks about him, magnanimous and virtuous, her son's image being evoked out the dim light of the lamps. '' With the strength equivalent of two people and running speed as fast as an antelope, and the aim of an owl. He was by far the strongest youth in the village, perhaps the butter had worked its magic. His mood like his father's was always towards the wider humanity & his countrymen. No wonder he got himself recruited to serve his country on the frontlines. However he promised he'd regularly write to her. Farewells & welcomes were adorned more with tears than smiles.''
The home abound with fruits, sweets and flowers, new silk clothes and lots of studded jewels, but yet, but yet she grieves pining for his love.. Does he have any pity on her. Without her son her house has become her prison & her bangles have become her shackles. '' She first got to know about it when the village postman informed her of a war happening afar along the borders against the wicked neighbour, the whole village was singing with rumours and the postman started carrying more tears than letters''
A woman with a son must not sigh in despair, she mustn't at any cost grieve O Lord. The garland of jasmines adorning her mustn't be crushed and the bloom of beauty mustn't fade. What must she do if her son hasn't come. Why's his heart made of stone? She folds her palms in a quiet prayer . She dreams only of him.
'' And finally he came, he was so great that he got escorted by armed guards and had the tricolour wrapped tight around him, she saw him lazing inside a box.. in a deep sleep which he'd never wake up from. The guards took formation & fired into the air in unison & saluted. He'd martyred himself fending his post off an entire battalion of enemy troops repulsing their attack wave by wave. He always had a mother who was above all that he called his motherland and he'd served that mother to the hilt.
But what about this mother? Had he ever given a thought. Yes he did. He'd thought many times and because of what he did in that post that night, many mothers like her got to see their sons and received them back in their villages smiling and thanking the Lord''
And suddenly the clouds get overcast & the distant sounds of thunder get closer, the rain lashes down ferociously without any mercy fading and extinguishing the carefully lit lamps, the downpour carries with it the decorated flowers as she stands facing the Lord and promises she'll redecorate the whole courtyard again and wait in anticipation the next night hopeful that her son will get home some day ....
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