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Salman bhai 😬
She is tired. She feels it in the marrow of her bones, in the way her knees tremble while climbing the stairs and every time a young woman's laughter reaches her ears making guilt bubble from the crevices of her skin. She waits, patiently expectantly hoping for a day when her past could be, well, faced directly.
"You are smiling ma," he says walking inside her room. The elderly woman smiles at her son.
"Do you want to go home?" She asks, standing up. She flicks invisible flint from her impeccable business suit. She has always been a classy woman. Minus her taste in men, her son thinks wryly.
He watches his mother spray an expensive perfume around her. He had come to associate the fragrance as mom', lethal' and vaguely nostalgia. "To the lake house?" He wonders out loud.
She shakes her head. "No. Home." She emphasizes for effect.
He freezes. "Can we really?" He whispers. The words sounded like benediction. He waits for his mother to confirm.
Her smile is predatory. It sings for blood, vengeance and revenge. She can see the same wild look in her son's eyes. Yes, it was time. "Make contact and start planning. Use my personal account for expenses."
He nods his head in agreement. He has already made plans. He has been planning for this trip for more than a year and has laid out a web back home. Finally, finally, he would get to go home. To his family, to his roots.
"You are very quiet," his mother observes when she doesn't get a verbal acknowledgment from him. "Do I need to make an appointment with Dr. Thomas this week?"
He falters at his mother's piercing gaze. "It would be wise." He says softly. While many misread his gentleness to timidity, his mother saw his struggle to contain the violence that his mind spun every single moment. She took him to her bosom, sang lullabies and got the best help her money could buy. It was nowhere near enough but it had to do.
"Hey, it's okay." She runs her well-manicured hands in his hair and massages his scalp gently. He closes his eyes and sighs in defeat. The blood in his veins calms down from the storm of emotion bursting through his sub consciousness.
"Thanks ma." He sighs in relief as his knees hit the ground. He presses his face to his mother's stomach and breathes in.
"Come back to me son." He hears her say above him, a distant voice during thunderstorm. The voice starts singing a lullaby from his childhood before the monster destroyed it all. He takes deep breaths, forcing his mind to latch on to singing voice and concentrate on the warm hands on his neck and hair.
"I am fine," he replies hoarsely, submitting to his mother's pull from the dark crevices of his own mind. "I here. Sorry ma," he apologizes.
His mother drops to her knees and holds his face between her palms. "Never apologize. You hear me? Never." There is vehemence in her voice. There is protection.
She holds her son close and a longing pang runs through her spine for the child she couldn't love as she loved her son.
A nervous hope, a fluttering longing and an old abandoned dream surface and fight for air. Her hearts hammer in her chest as memories flood her brain and her son clutches her hard.
They were going home.
Yeh Rishta Kya Kehlata Hai
CID
