Festival of Lights

It was that time of the year again. A time where people wake up in excitement to wear their newly bought clothes. It was a time where little children woke up to seeing their mum prepping ingredients for something very special.

People draped their fancy clothes and tried to feel different on this auspicious occasion. Although, the neighborhood lit up with the spirit, colors and luminous lights, a home in the same street gaped with blandness.Not because, the family members didn’t have the holiday spirit (Even though they were only 2), but because they were too old to show the world that they loved to celebrate the festival of lights.

The 70 year old woman stirred the dough with all her might, just to put up a little dessert, that she could enjoy with her husband. Even though, she made it for only two, she put her entire heart to please her husband, her only companion, who rested on the couch with his eyes closed.

Their love was eternal. Even though, their children settled in different countries, they were satisfied that their children were well-fed and happy wherever they were. But nothing could replace the joy of having their children at home, to lift their spirits and achieve their satisfaction.

They sat on the couch, nibbled on their little dessert, bit by bit and waited for a call from their children. The old woman sat by the phone, just in case. She wouldn’t miss the call. She sat for hours but still got no rings. She gave up hope but she was happy and she knew that the only reason her children didn’t call was because they were enjoying the festival and that they might be busy. What else did the mother’s heart need? She went into the kitchen to wash the plates they had eaten. She was tired.

A couple of arms hugged her from behind. These long, soft arms were covered in a thick black suit. It was her son. She knew it before she even turned around. She rested her head on his arms, and a tear rolled down the mother’s eyes. This was motherly love. Memories flashed right before her eyes, when her son would come running and jumping over the fence as soon as he smelt the odour of his mom’s dessert. She was contempt.

Even though she was very tired, she went back into the kitchen, to prepare for more.