Pocket full of stars

12 [RAHI]

The difference between me and my mother was that I didn't know how to express the frustration or the pain that ravaged my existence.

My mother loved complaining and ran off to her siblings and her parents whenever something happened.

She never had time to listen to my complaints and even if she did, I got scolded for not being tolerant enough.

I never had the time to understand how my mother functioned until I grew up.

She was always a dominating dragon for me.

When we were in class 7, Uday broke into a quarrel and later a fist-fight, one day, when he heard me telling my friend about my mother.

"Don't you feel ashamed?" was what he said in anger before launching an attack on my face with his huge fist and sending me flying.

He was a 6-foot giant while I staggered up to 4 feet 9 inches.

Unable to bear the audacity of a stupid student attacking the elite of the class, I pounced up on him.

It naturally did not have any effect. He threw me off like a hamster and I got up and scratched and bit him with all my energy.

He was angry.

But I was furious.

My friend interfered and calmed us down. "Why are you getting angry?" He asked the boy.

"How dare she talk like that about her mother?" Uday had retorted.

"She is my mother. It's up to me how I talk about her." I spat out the words. "You mind your own business or if possible, spend some energy on your studies if that brings up your grades a bit."

"You don't know what a mother is." He fumed. "Love her when she is there."

I later learned from my friend that he had lost his mother.

When Uday calmed down, he talked to me patiently, "No one will love you as selflessly as a mother. Having your mother is like having God's ultimate blessing with you. Don't say such things."

"You don't know my mother." I had retorted.

"Of course, I don't. But whatever trouble you are having with your mother, resolve it."

"Keep your concern focused on your studies."

"Is that the only thing you have? Your grades?" He laughed quizzically.

"What else am I supposed to have?"

Back then, it seemed ridiculous.

But the little conversation we had planted a seed in my mind which fed itself on my focus, concentration and energy.

What else was I supposed to have?

My grades were the only thing that kept me in my mother's good books. Without those, I would be dead anytime.

The certificates and medals were my lifelines.

I needed to be on my toes so that I didn't cross the lines drawn by my mother.

I was living a life of punishment I did not know I committed, so there was nothing to resolve.

The elders of the family knew my mistake and thus they kept quiet when they saw me getting thrashed or beaten.

What they felt when they saw me like that was a question that always tormented me.

Curiosity was in my blood and I needed to feed it with information.

What went on in their minds?

Pity? Sympathy?

What crime did I commit for which people wanted me to suffer every day and every hour?

I was hated since I was born.

What crimes did I commit at birth?