Changing a city doesn’t change only Geographical locations

Changing a city doesn’t change only Geographical locations

“I don’t want any more snacks, I can easily get it in the store right next to my apartment. Will you please stop sending bags full of snacks and sweetmeats” he jabbered over the phone. “But beta, this for your own good ?”. “Mom, I understand but I don’t see the need of it at the moment, anyways get back to you later my train is here.”

When he left I thought it wouldn’t make much of a difference, after all even when he was here he’d always be out busy with his work or meeting his friends. Since his early teens he has made me proud and a lady who can hold his head high because her son was a responsible man at the age of 20. But what bothers me now is about his whereabouts, I usually wonder does he take care of himself.

He doesn’t know how to control his hunger. I vividly remember the day he came home from school frustrated and crying because someone had bullied him and taken away his tiffin box. I made his favorite dish and they way he crushed me in his arms I didn’t even mention to him about burning my fingers while making the puris. Maybe he is grown up now, maybe he likes the food in the stalls better than what his mothers cooks.

At least, when he was here I would quarrel with him and ensured he wore a jacket whenever he hoped out during the chilly winters? I worry whether he remembers carrying his jacket to work. I have heard the city gets really cold in the evenings. Maybe it isn’t really cold because of the pollution.

I have been troubling her so much, I am grown up now and I feel for her, I don’t want her to burn her fingers while making something which she won’t even have a chance to eat. I care for her but how can I tell her I don’t want to trouble her, she’ll think I am being over practical. I want her to be cosy and comfortable. I want her to sit back and enjoy her jolly time. I am grown up now, I don’t want to trouble her again with my tensions; she has always had my back and giving herself time is the least I can do as a compensation.

I left for the city with big dreams and great aspirations, I never knew living away from home is going to be so tough. I remember laughing to myself what difference does it make, after all even when I was back in the city I never really stayed at home.

But changing the city doesn’t merely the change the geographical locations. A lot of things change and you get so busy that you don’t even realize. You are out at the parties and having a great time but back in the mind, you miss the cosy couch at your place where you could lie like a lazy dog the whole day. There are infinite varieties of food to devour here but the tongue still longs for the puris.

I have gotten so many new things in the past 4 months, new curtains, new cutlery and a new phone but the house is empty now. In the late mornings when the world is busy and I am done with my chores, I look at the empty sofas and all things in place it gives me a sense of emptiness. I have no more towels to dry no more books and cables and laptop to put back in place. The home has turned into an exhibition house, unfortunately, it is haunted by loneliness and no visitors drop by.

I kill time by reading the newspapers, they always publish great stories but as the pages keep on turning the stories of deaths, thefts and accidents pierce a hole in my heart. What if someday something happens to him? I might not be able to even share with him how much he means to me, will I fail myself as a mother?

Social media was to connect us with our friends and families but then the news channels got their content there as well, reading about an old couple strangled to death by thieves and accidental fires due to short circuits, I always fear what if something like this happens to them? What will be the value of all this money I am running for? Will this all matter to me!!

I’ll better go and make puris maybe the aroma will reach out to him and bring him home.

I better get my things in place, I need to show her I am now a matured son.

Jainam Mehta
A writer A dream an avid reader. One who believes in sorting things in the box before jumping out of it.