Like my casual routine, I walked up to the barred lane to smoke up my first cigarette of the day. This is my home. This was the only happening place I could think of after the boring insensible college. You know, as a little one that lane was the place where mom and dad used to hold my hands and I had learnt two wheeler. Childhood memories always made me smile. Obviously, it will. When things have drastically changed, aren’t we left with those happy moments which are meant to make us smile? It was supposed to be missed. It is missed. “Let the sky be the limit for you.” With this line, she blessed me every morning. This wasn’t just a line, she meant it. Another second, “I will fly high like those paper rockets I make.” I mocked everyday just to make mom smile.
Mom loved songs. I learnt singing from mom. Every day, after my good night stories she would listen to her favourite songs in the hall room accompanied with her best book. I remember how she would use those petals to decorate the hall room every fortnight. Beautiful it looked. I have seen her doing it with so much of charm. The smell of cigarettes and those roses would mix up to give a very different smell. I had loved that. Basically, she was perfect in everything. “You are my mom. You are the prettiest.” Saying this I hugged her many times. She loved everything. When my dad’s lungs stopped working and he left us alone in this insane world, she couldn’t think anymore. He had coughed badly that day.
The cassette got filled with dust for days and even months and Mom wouldn’t clean it. Most of the times I would try to do it with a smile, but then it rarely worked. I would end up having tears in my eyes. Memories; they have the power to make you smile and the wisdom to make you fall apart. They are powerful, aren’t they? Like those heavy floods and hurricanes that make you feel.
SMOKING. I guess, I learnt it from dad. Or my college buddies. Most probably I learnt it from myself. I wasn’t sure. That beautiful lane which happened to be my favourite childhood memory, I hated that place now. Four more cigarettes I puffed up that day. Ahh, Essense it is. I don’t know how Mom is managing everything. My little sister, she is just 7 years old and she blames me for everything. “You are the real culprit.” she screamed up one day. 3 years down and I’ve no longer seen mom. I wanna meet mom and tell her I love her. No more I hold my head high and walk. No more I sing my favourite song with mom. No more beautiful blessings I get from mom. I wish I could take the same path and move back to home. Home? The real home, I meant.