A conversation of 2 words 

He watched the sky lose its colour. The world he witnessed stopped being vivid. His mind refused to process anything apart from black and white. He decided to walk home. He found himself in no condition to drive anywhere. It was either that or he felt the claustrophobic experience of sitting within four doors of his car overwhelming. Air had seemed to drain out of his lungs. He struggled to breathe. He felt choked. There were no arms forcing his neck. If one could fathom a guess, it would probably be all in his mind.




As he walked, he viewed a world of joy around him in anguish. A band of little girls giggling cheerfully as they jumped ropes and singing away happy simple songs did not matter to him. The sight did not scream of colours to his heart. He saw them all in shades of decaying black. Up ahead in a distance, there was a mother feeding her little one. She pointed at the birds to shove a spoonful into the kid’s mouth. The distracted kid obliged. He took in an enormous portion and gleefully munched away. He paused to watch the strenuous exercise. He halted his steps. He looked skywards. A gentle breeze washed away freshly formed tears in his eyes.


It was a sound of a screeching motorcycle that yanked him away from his moment from god. Angry words spewed, the crowd quickly dispersed. The world sounded different today. He had always heard the world’s chaos as music. There had always been a harmony to the confusion. Today , all of it sounded cluttered and incoherent. It was all a static noise. There was no music in the world. The noise lacked form or structure. It was neither pleasant or disturbing. It was just noise. Meaningless, pointless noise. A noise void of any meaning.


Gripped with grief, he carried on walking. There was no place to head that would bring him peace. Peace and promises of a colourful future had to be left behind a few hours ago. Home felt like a place as good as any other. He chose to walk home. The walls that which once offered him comforts would today accept him as their prisoner. His sentence had been pronounced. The time remained to be served. His exile would soon follow. His recluse took shape very quickly. He was drained of colours. He couldn’t see them anymore. He was drained of music, he couldn’t hear it’s soothing sounds anymore. He was drained of thoughts, all his thoughts carried a static noise. 

His motor functions worked. A lifeless soulless body , that which was all that was left of him, managed to walk home. He inanimately rang the bell. He had announced his arrival. 

A few seconds later his mom opened the door.

Mother. Mother is a person whose sight transcends the boundaries of vision. Mother sees it all. She does not see time as a single linear line. To her, the past , the present and the future , they all both simultaneously converge and fork out in different directions. Mother is a person who sees the truth beyond the lies, reads the words when there are none, feels the crush of emotions when one can barely stomach it’s overwhelming icy grip. His mother saw it all. She saw her son for what he was. He was not the boy she had brought into this world. Her baby’s heart was filled with hopes, dreams and love. Her baby’s face was smile ridden. Her baby only cried because it was too jealous to share its mother’s attention with anybody else in the world. 

This was not the baby that she had brought into the world. Here stood a shell. A mere dark reflection of what once used to be nice.

The minute he saw his mother, he could no longer contain his devastating grief. It tore him from deep within. His sorrow exploded. The violent outburst peacefully expressed itself as tears in his eyes.

‘Ma….’, he called out to her. His voice trembled. Even simple sounds felt hard to produce.

‘Shhhhhhhhhhhhhhh……..’, the mother responded. Words were redundant. She hugged him tight. Her shoulder felt the warm tears of her son.


Katz

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “A conversation of 2 words 

  1. This is so touching. Mothers are thebest cure. My mother is my confidant. Sometimes I Skip things that may hurt her which has hurt me you know. And she realises it anyway and knows it all.

    Is the grief that you are talking about related to depression ? I feel many of us need help but we dont realize we are depressed.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s