A Letter To Maa

Dear Maa,
This might come as a surprise, for my demonstrative abilities have been torpid since long, being the ‘quiet sloth’ of the family. Yet, there’s no particular reason for doing this. Probably, it’s the gradual change of circumstances, swiftly seeping time and some hundred- thousand miles between us that often make me wonder, ‘how destiny’s hues overshadow the most beautiful colours of life!’. Succumbing to the pleasure and pain of our desires, we gear up with pace of the world, forgetting the invisible ties from past still crouching beside with the hope of reaffirmation in their eyes. It’s only when they cease to exist, that we try to scratch their reminiscent in a bid to revive some of them. Such thoughts, ignite a flash of fear in my heart, a fear of loss, a fear of dark, a fear of loneliness, a fear of void, a fear that’s immense yet unknown.

I remember the old days, the time of carefree childhood when certain rules and important tasks were fabricated with some or the other playful distractions, the times when the actually vital background process of over-times and bonuses were hidden behind my excited cries of riding a new bicycle. Those times when expensive requests meant delays and prolonged consolations but never direct refusal. Then there were days of adolescence, when your silent support and riddled warnings taught us lessons of life. The half told reasons, half justified statements, half explained truths might have caused a sour rue but towards the end we had our apologies in place and the sweet aftermaths too. I am sorry for the times when I didn’t pay much heed to your words, the times when your silence seemed arrogance to me, the times when your altruism adorned with delicacy couldn’t fit with my theories and logic. I am sorry for the instances when I scoffed at your orthodox disposition, unable to see the experience behind those fore tales. There are always two sides to a story, two halves of a truth and the guilt of having caught the wrong one recedes me to nothing.

Life isn’t always black and white, actually its different shades of grey but the rigidity of our thoughts inhibits us from accepting or even identifying them. There are facts, truths, falsehood, fibs and then there are half-truths that live within those varied saturation of grey. You taught me how the journey was a series of such grey dots, disparate yet united as beads in a necklace. They might seem immoral, rough and treacherous but incidentally, bind the very facts of our bubbled world. “Nothing would ever have been the same, had we known the other part, the other road, the other world.” You used to say and possibly it’s this sense of being blindly unaware about the other dimension of destiny that makes me confess my gratitude, love and respect for all you did.

Thank You!

With love,
Your Kid

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