Misc. Erotica ...And My Mother doesn't Remain Ours

[garamrohan]

By the time I reached the Station, the train had left the platform and was slowly moving to pick up the momentum. 

“Jiju… Di…” I cried, struggling for breath, hoping my voice would reach them piercing through the noise on the platform. With my head bent and my both hands on my knees, I kept looking at the window they were sitting at. 

Papa had bidded goodbye and had turned back, walking toward me, and then Di saw me and shook her hand. I stood up and ran fanatically, catching with the compartment they were sitting in. On the road, I brushed against papa, ignoring what he expelled, I kept running to the platform by the window. 

“Hey Babu, Why are you here? Didn’t we tell you to take a rest?” Di’s concerned and kept talking which my brain didn’t make out. All I was focused on was - Jiju.

“Please come back soon, Jiju..” I panicked. I felt my voice shaking. And both of them were startled seeing me get this emotional. Little did they know the big trouble that had knocked the door, and the fact that we as a family of three were incapable of facing it. 

They looked at each other, and smiled at me, waving me goodbye. With a promise - “They will be back soon.”

—-

I directly walked in the house. I wanted to ensure mummy had cleaned up the mess as papa was on my behind only. Mummy didn’t poked me as I walked by her, and proceeded with tulasi puja that had been discontinued some time ago.

I walked through the bedroom. It was cleaned impeccably. As if nobody had walked to the room since the morning; as if nothing had ever happened there. The bedsheet has changed, the scattered books were neatly arranged, the floor was washed mirror-clean. No trace of goo; no sickening smell in the air that had suffocated me during my earlier walk there. 

I breathed out the relief and turned to walk back to the main door. 

“Such a disgusting kid you are!” my dad barked as he walked in the house. I paid no attention. I had more serious things to worry about than reacting to his nonsense behavior that was not supposed to change… ever.

I stood by the verandah. Looking at mummy with pity and sympathy, and controlling my emotions from leaking out of my eyes. What a gem of a woman I had as my mother! She was the prime victim. The bruises on her body and mind were more direct and painful. Yet she stood up firmly real fast, and got engaged herself into daily chores. And here I was completely collapsed. A hopeless, shameless son that could have lived.    
   
She had changed into an orange saree, this time the old one. But she was looking equally graceful – the way she looked in any saree at any time. But she looked a bit tired; and for the obvious reason. Just like a stretched rubber band takes time to come to its original dimension, she was in need of ample rest to look the same cheerful again, I thought, and immediately felt ashamed of thinking that way.

And I noticed the bruises on her lower lip. My heart raced again. Had he bitten her, or that’s something else? My puzzled eyes kept observing her for other obvious signs of the exploitation. She had 11 bangles in both hands, no? Only 7 in left and 9 in right hand now.

I hissed and retired to my room. I pierced my face into the pillow and started crying. The incidents passed before my eyes like a video tape and my helplessness and shame tightened in the chest, I let out a big sigh; and then another. In no moment I started crying like a child. 

“What happened, babu?” I heard mummy’s voice and alerted immediately.

I sat up rubbing my dampened and red eyes with my wrist and said nothing.

She walked near me, putting the puja thali on the table by the door and stood before me. Her soft hand moved through my hair, full of motherly love, and I couldn’t help but embrace her by her waist and push my face into her stomach and let my feelings wash away.

“Easy… Don’t behave like a child,” She patted with affection, “Di and Jiju are going to return soon. They will stay longer next time. Isn’t Di’s exam schedule spanning over a month?”

I felt relieved for her misunderstanding of why I had become so overwhelmed. But my heart twitched even more knowing that the danger had only increased now, and I am incapable of protecting my own mother.

“Everything will be all right na mummy?” I sobbed; my face still stuck to her abdomen, seeking motherly reassurance. And she answered in her sweet but cracking voice, “Yes Rohan babu, everything will be all right!”