The Pillows in the sky

The clouds started to mesh around one another for creating those beautiful white pillows in the sky while the sun made his appearance felt by glorifying the boundaries of the cloud. As I lay down on the grass, I felt the cool morning breeze passing through my ears whereas my closed eyes saw those flying strings moving haphazardly on an orange background. All this while, my mind was teleporting me in to various instances, ones which have occurred in the past & also the ones which I expected to happen in the future. I kept replaying those scenes so that I could keep reminding myself of the mistakes I have committed. Those scars of the past & the fear of the future that had made my head a lot heavy which in turn kept squeaking for mercy. But I was indifferent, as I thought if I could sustain the pain then I could solve the problems. However I didn’t know then, that for solving a problem you need a clear mind & for that I needed to accept my mistakes and move on.

I was longing for those white pillows where I could rest my head & feel no worry. I wanted the breeze to be so swift that it could carry my memories with it, & save me from this recurring pain. I had given up hope just like those flying strings which ran in all directions but could never reach home. I had zeroed on this day to decide whether I have the will left to live more or should I fly high to that beautiful heaven up above those glowing clouds. I had almost given up on life, I knew the will was dead long ago but I just wasn’t ready to give up, it was very scary to even think of that. But the mental scars were one too many to handle, they kept bleeding the past in front of my closed eyes till I lost my energy to sustain. But I still wasn’t ready to give up; it was still very scary, so I got up & made my way back home.

I knew what would happen when I reach home; I would have to answer a lot of questions & I didn’t know whether they would understand even if I try to answer. All sorts of things started to go around in my head; what was I going to answer about the letter I had left behind? Will they love me as they used to? Will I be able to see them in the eye ever? As I ruffled out of these questions, I was in front of my house which had the door open. I made a silent entry into the house; I could see my mother crying as she sat inside my room, holding on to my childhood picture. I was shivering as the tears kept flowing down, while I took my closing steps towards her & called out “Amma”. Her teary eyes hadn’t seen anything beautiful as this moment; son who she thought was lost had come back. Her joy was unbound, she didn’t scold me or even ask me anything, but she just pulled me close & gave me a tight hug. As I rested my head on her lap, I finally realized that it wasn’t the pillows in the sky which would make me free, but it’s the mother’s lap which makes any child feel free & loved, and I was no different.

Amma means mother in Telugu/Tamil language.

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