“Rahul, will you get me the wheat flour from the kitchen top shelf, I can’t reach it,” Mamatha asked her son.“Sure mom, but you will have to hold the stool while I climb it, it is very shaky,” Rahul said.Mamatha thought just like me all the things in the house have become shaky. She got up and went to the kitchen along with her son. Rahul pulled the stool from under the counter and climbed on it with his mom’s support. Mamatha bending her body a bit held the stool firmly to the floor so that it won’t slide while her son was on top of it. She was thinking about Reddy’s offer while holding the stool, she came to her senses when she heard her son calling her.Mamatha looked up and saw her Rahul holding the wheat flour container in his hands and also she observed the bulge in her son’s shorts. “My eighteen year old son is aroused and by what?” Mamatha panicked on seeing Rahul ogling at her bosom. While she was bending to hold the stool, her saree pallu had slipped from her shoulders and. My whole being became pain. I was a soul writhing in a sea of boiling agony and I screamed like a wolf that howls in mourning. I screamed like a bird that soars across the horizon. And all eyes were on me and I was dying in the pain that engulfed me and swallowed me whole. If only I could die I would be happy. Laying eyes on my son erased the pain and closed the wounds on my face and body, it breathed new life into me and assured me that our souls are real, and that our pain however intolerable is fleeting and not in vain. I was afraid to touch him as if he were made out of cotton candy and my fingers could reshape him and turn him into nothing but so much sugar from which he was made. My blood marked his body, proving that he was mine. My flesh, my blood, a new life born of my womb. A new soul to sprout wings and fly if only I could teach him. Suddenly all my fears and inadequacies as a mother seemed very real. God trusts us with this great task and I felt so much less than worthy..
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