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Am a contradiction of sorts. i love going out and having a good time with friends, and i can also stay home chill out over a book or a movie.. Am very passionate about writing, so give me a topic and watch me float away into wonderland... I Am crazy about music,books,friends and my doggie... :)

May 4, 2005

[fiction] Threads of life

“Hi Shyam! Welcome home”
“Hello Shyam! It’s so good to see you”
“Hello, Beta! It’s been so long”

Shyam had heard so many voices surrounding him as he had made his way home. Sharad, Seema, his grandmother were all so happy to see him. It had been long, his last visit was way back in December 2000. Since then two years had flown by, but what could he do? his education, completion of PhD had to take place before he could plan a trip home.

Upon hearing the door open, he was jolted back to reality. No sooner had he stepped over the threshold, his eyes had scanned the room to locate his father.

He had spotted his father standing at the far end of the room holding a beautiful garland made of lovely red roses. Shyam reflects on how he had seen his father in the exact same position about 3years ago when he, Shyam had rushed home upon receiving news that his mother had passed away.

Shyam had walked up to his dad, who held him in a tight embrace for a few seconds, before letting go and handing over the garland. “Shyam, place this garland on your mother’s picture and take her blessings” is all he had whispered.

As Shyam made his way to what used to be his parent’s room, now being used by his kid sister Seema, tears had filled his eyes almost blinding him. He could recall that rainy day 3years ago, he even remembered the date, it was August 10,1997, when he had answered the call that shattered his world .

His dad has followed him into the room and tapped him on his shoulder bringing him back to reality. His father smiled and told him “Son, she would have been so proud of you and what you have achieved” .It was her dream that you study further and accomplish something for yourself instead of joining the family garment export business as your brother, Sharad did.

The day had worn by and everyone had retired to their rooms after dinner. Shyam had been in his room trying to sleep, but sleep evaded him. He had got out of bed and walked across the living room to the one he visited that morning. His sister was fast asleep holding a picture of his mom, a habit she had developed right his mother’s passing away. He had walked upto his mother’s picture that hung on the wall, ran his hand through the silk threads that had held the roses together. His mother was so like the threads, she had held the family together and happy; never giving up, always ready to please, giving in to their whims and fancies. She was the thread that made sure there were no difference of opinions between father and son, between siblings and everyone else who were a part of their lives.

Roses were her favourite flowers, for she used to say, “Roses are like life, inspite of being covered in thorns, the plant manages to give out such a pretty flower. Just as we should all learn to take things in our stride and not let it get to our head. This she said, “Would spoil the relationship and that we have to learn to share what we have and give we must unconditionally”

The very day Shyam’s mother passed away, his father made a promise, and since then he had risen early every morning, gathered 20 roses from their garden and would sit in that particular chair in the porch making a beautiful garland using the same threads his mother had loved. This had become a routine that his father looked forward to and had never deterred from.

Oh, what a trip that had been for Shyam. And it was already two years since then and he sure was looking forward to seeing them all again

“Good Morning Shyam Beta, had your coffee yet?” jolts Shyam awake.

Shyam could hear his father ask from out in the porch.

A yawn slips out of his mouth and Shyam wakes up in his bed , where he’d slept the previous night , after a long tiring flight from Kuala Lumpur. He strolls out of the room to be greeted by the sight of his father doing the exact same thing that had become his routine ,making yet another garland.


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