It so happened that one of the days my mother got late in picking me up from school. I must not have been anything over seven and those days school used to get over by 12. With every other child having left the class I slowly picked up my bag, dragged my feet and sat down next to the gate. In peace. No tears no complain nothing.
I hardly must have been that way for fifteen minutes when the ayaa walked up to me.
“Kya hua? Ghar nahi jaana?” she asked hoarsely. (what happened? Do you not have to go home?)
“Mummy ayengi,” I replied. (Mummy will come)
“Ab nahi ayengi,” she spoke decidedly. (Now she will not come)
I shook my head very gently, “Woh ayengi.” (she will come)
“Chalo school office, call karein ghar pe,” she insisted. (Let us go to school office and make a call to your home)
This time I looked up and stared, “Woh ayengi. Yahin pe. Aap jao.” (She will come. Here only. You go)
There must have been something in my eyes that shook her confidence. She left me alone but not by disappearing for good. She kept lurking around and kept a close watch over me.
I on the other hand sat in silence. I remember I didn’t feel a pang of fear or apprehension. I was completely at peace with myself.
Approximately forty five minutes later I saw my mother running towards the gate, crying (obviously).
She reached out for me, held me tight and continued to cry.
“Ghar ki watch kharab ho gayi. I thought time hai. Then I realised and I ran out of the house” she spoke between copious tears. (Clock at home stopped working. I thought there is time.)
I wiped her tears and smiled and said, “Mumma but I knew you would come.”
Why did I narrate this story?
I was sitting and thinking about how far I have come. How much I have achieved or not achieved. And in these thick of things inside head, it got me wondering. What would be the one thing I would very much like to change back?
And it was this. The unadulterated, unwavering trust of a seven year old me.
Trust in loved ones. In myself. And most importantly trusting the secret ways of life and time as such.
You tell me if you are to say it out loud, what would be the one thing you would like to bring back from your seven year old self?
Also guess which one of the cute kids am I in the picture? 🙂
When we’re kids, we have untainted hearts. We do not know the meaning of trust, innocence, truth and other things of value, yet we’re so full of them. And, when most of us have grown and understood the meaning of those words, we’re already deficient of them. Thanks for sharing the story. It reminded me of a lot of fond memories from my own childhood.
Exactly. Look at the paradox like the very understanding made us forget the same 🙂
I simply loved this post Richa. More so because I am at a stage in life when I look forward to picking up the kids everyday from school. Though I have a good 8 hours before they come back, I dread sleeping away. I can very we imagine your mother’s feelings too. But yes, the trust and innocence of the seven year old me, I want it back.
I guess you’re the one in red. Is it?
haha no rekha in yellow! And yes the innocence and trust of a seven year old… as a mother you might have experienced it all over again 🙂