The Mother

I am a writer and I was searching for a story from quite a long time, and I started believing that I had hit a writer’s block. I tried many things: from going Himalayas to doing Vipasanas, to solving mysteries to visiting cemeteries, but nothing fetched me anything good I must say. But there is always an end to everything, and eventually I got one story. This story is about Aarit, a mother, her son and somehow, I got involved into it only to give this world a message: a message that is full of love, but never I knew I would be told in a shocking manner.

Aarit met me while I was on the penultimate serial of my itinerary: Highgate cemetery, North London – England. I was trying to find my story and had tried things which I must not had, and visiting the cemetery was one of them. I touched each and every grave to let the story sink in me, but all the graves were ‘dead’ I believe. I was ‘leave-taking’ from the cemetery to my hotel named Fantasma located in Manchester. I boarded London-Underground and found Aarit sitting in the next seat.

“Hi,” I said while shaking my head a bit, carrying an etiquette smile.

“Hey, going Manchester?” Aarit shocked me, but he wasn’t finished, “Fantasma, isn’t it?” OMG! He knew where I was lodging.

I was glued and stoic.

He started, “I am going to tell you a story which you’re looking for,” and I was all ears to him without a second thought. He began.

“I went to handover the assets of my roommate to his village who left this world few months ago,” Aarit looked at me with grief in his eyes, not ready to believe his friend had died, “It was December 2, 2013 and it was around 2 A.M. by the time I reached. I knocked his door and her mother opened the door.” Aarit kept staring me while he asked, “Do you believe me?” I nodded without blinking, but afraid and he continued, “I forwarded my hands to handover his remaining assets, but she said to give it to her son himself.” It was as shocking for me to hear this from Aarit as much as he would be there then. “But your son…isn’t he…where is he?” Aarit questioned the lady and waited for her to answer patiently. “He would be coming soon, you drink the water, and take some rest,” Mother replied.

“I drank and rested there for some time only to be woken up by my roommate’s father,” Aarit told and was looking at me once again deeply, “I believe you,” I said firmly, and he was satisfied. Aarit started once again, “It was 3.13 A.M. as I rubbed my eyes to see that digital wall clock as the first thing,” Aarit smiled slyly, “I was telling his father about his mother’s mental condition before he stopped me to tell that she had died months ago just after hearing the news.” I was cold after Aarit told this to me, and I understood why he was smiling, but I was wrong, there was something more. He was about to start again but I defiantly asked, “Who opened the door and gave you the water?” Aarit smiled again, but this time he shrieked in a feminine voice, “The same woman talking to you. I have one son, and he is not dead. I am his mother and no one can separate him from me. Go tell them this.”

I passed. I opened my eyes back in my hotel Fantasma conceiving my ‘fantasmal’ story.