One's personality is both a composition and reflection, but if I have to choose one of them, I will choose reflection as the "self" is more important to me than "me". One's composition may change, walking across the cultural landscapes and climbing the social ladder but one's self is tied to one's reflections. The fun part is that reflections are not bound to "Time-Space" barriers ( it is not time-space) and respective mental constructs, which have grown so thick over ages, that they had reduced the image of humans to Sisyphus, rolling different sizes of boulders on hills of different heights.… As the name of this Blog indicates, knols are my perspectives on topics of interests, sweet/bitter experiences or just doodling :)

Friday, October 11, 2013

Dolly Bird

One thing that surprises me again and again, is the comfort and security that I get from my mother. If I am feeling down and is talking to her, I try very hard to conceal my feelings (try to pose very strong) just to keep her happy, but then I don't know, how she senses my unexpressed feelings and makes me open up my heart and get comfort and a new energy. Whenever, I feel down, I know where I have to seek refuge. Whenever, I need  an inspiration, I know, where to get energy. In no one else presence, I feel more of myself as in her presence. May be that is why, I have formed this idea that love is where one starts acting as a kid. If an adult behaves as an adult in front of another, to me, that means there is partial trust and they don't feel comfortable enough to be themselves in front of each other. Sometimes, I encounter with real examples that strengthen my faith that even modernity has not shaken up that affection called motherhood.

It was the afternoon of first day of Ramadhan and I was returning home. Having one of the worst days of life accompanying with exhaustion from long travel, walks, long waiting, thirsty and hungry, I took the train 7 to go to Time Square (From where, I had to take bus to binghamton). Most of people looking tired and busy in their heads. I too was staring to rapidly passing buildings and then I was not seeing anything. My mind was rebooting itself to settle down the restless thoughts that were keep rushing in, and in the process, it was avoiding information from my eyes. Then like, one awakes from dream, I start seeing things again. The first thing that I saw were a woman in her fifties (apparently) and a girl in her twenties. May be, I felt that my looking is not normal, that is why, I put down my head to not see the girl. I was fasting and it is required from one to maintain a reasonable control over mind and body. But more than control over body and mind, it was strange fear from beauty of the girl that forced me to avoid seeing her. She was unbelievably, so beautiful that I got scared that I may get a permanent image of her in my mind. Her beauty was not a customized beauty as poets build out of perfect parts. It was more like a play of good proportion garnished with a comfortable smile that were emitting freshness and satisfaction from her face. In contrast, the woman in her fifties had a prominent history of hard life that were visible in all of her appearance. She had tightly covered her hairs with a kerchief and had rolled back her sleeves. Sun-tanned, frowny face and heavy arms were giving her an impression of a strong woman who has been wrestling with hard realities of life since her early times. I looked up again to this pair of ladies, forgetting my own worries for a while. The pretty young lady had squeezed herself against older lady and was rubbing herself against her like chicks hid themselves into feathers of hen. For me, it was really interesting to see a pretty young lady relies so heavily on an aged woman. Again, to avoid that pretty face, I renewed rebooting my mind to keep it able, to cope with the reality of my own life.

With strong jolts, train stopped and a lot of people started moving out. Without reading name of the station, I stood up and followed the crowd and just close to the door of the train, a hand took my arm, "Are you going to Time Square?" ... I looked back. It was that dolly bird. I just nodded my head. "The next station is your stop." and then, "Let's go mom" and both ladies stepped out (May be she had guessed from my exhaustion that I had come out of city). She was a totally different girl, unlike the girl in train who was looking insecure and dependent on her mother, she was a confident girl (apparent from her body language was not a chick but of a dolly bird). Just the image of a mom really freshen up my mind. Mother is the only one who creates an ecosystem around her that lets her kids stay kids. No matter, how confident and smart one grows into, her presence let that kid show up. 

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