Monday, December 10, 2007

Mother and child / Clouded

“Amma! Look! at them Clouds. They are so low!!”, the child screamed in excitement at the discovery. The mother could feel the thrill and the rush of anticipation in her child through the tiny fingers that were trying to break free from her soft grasp.
It was a chilly winter morning and they were returning from their routine trip to the store to replenish their stock of noodles, bread and butter. The sun was not out yet and it did not look as though it would be a bright sunny day. She was wondering whether it would drizzle again. The day is ruined, if it rains again, she thought. Inclement weather of her city will never change.
“If we get on to the terrace of that huge building we should be able to touch the clouds, no, amma?” The animation in the child’s voice forced her to see what the child was so excited about. It was a scattered sheet of whiteness.The whirling mist was slowly drifting away. She had crossed that path so many times but had never once observed this cloud of whiteness before. The floating mist under the grey-white sky was, infact, looking beautiful. She was delighted for her child but her ‘rational’ mind was looking beyond. It was looking for the source for that moving whiteness and wouldn’t rest till it spotted thick smoke and the tip of a chimney few blocks away from where they stood. The child would not take its eyes off from the disappearing and reappearing sheets of clouds.The sparkling eyes of the child wouldn’t even blink. Must she break the spell of her child? Should she be giving the first lesson about illusions of life to that young mind so early? The realist mind was urging the mother to go ahead. But her romantic heart gave in and she decided to narrate the time when she not just touched but walked and ran through the clouds on a foggy morning on a hill station.

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