Mothers' day.

The wind was strong enough to bend the proud trees from the aesop fables. She heard her father calling her in, asking her to stay away from the storm. 

The rain is always mesmerising. The downpour locks in it many emotions - fury, gentleness, romance, lust, fear- it depends on the receiver what it manifests. Looking from inside her comfortable and strong 3 bedroom apartment, the rain felt inviting to her. Soft, full of feelings, like a caress, probing her to explore life.

Acknowledging her father's concerns with a "daa varunnu acha.." she continues to sit, and stare.

The trees shake in a rhythm, one long sweep to the left, bounce and a deep sweep again to the left. The sway of leaves and rain create loose illusions of a saree flowing in the wind. She stares long enough to see the saree take an identity, a face - a pair of eyes. Eyes that shone when someone mentioned Prabhu deva, eyes that urged her to never lose focus, eyes that always reflected hope- her mother's eyes.

She looks harder.

Amma stares back, smiling in acknowledgement. Her eyes seem to seek out her father, seems enquiring of their wellbeing, in the typical "Amma" fashion. She stares deep into her eyes, reads out the questions. Her own eyes well up in response.

"Athei amme, we are well. He is well, still asks for you first thing in the morning, only to keep quiet and reflect on the folly and unfairness of it all."

I see her eyes acquire a wistful look, like they are welling up too. The rain doesn't help with the clarity.

"And you, how are you?" Tears flow down in response, automatically. Much like how the days pass now. Amma always said that Life went on, no matter what. Derailing is very much part of the cosmic routine. You can still acquire stability after a rocking. 

She perhaps forgot to mention that when the central rock shatters, life readjusts, but with a different setup altogether, one not necessarily as good as the previous one.

Life goes on alright, but sometimes, you wish it didn't.

She feels the wind growing colder by the minute, and the trees redesign their dance, now nodding along like obedient school children, perhaps in anticipation of what amma would say. Nodding along was what she did, when amma talked to her about things like these- feelings, direction and life.

"Take care of yourselves and your father. I still want you to take Achan on his world trip, alright? What about the book you said you were writing, will it be over soon ,like me, hahha!" 

Tears flow freely, the saree is blurred, eyes come into focus. They seem to be reminding of her all time advice, take some time to reorient, start slow, but start and be consistent.

She wipes her tears, nod her affirmation, now Amma's transient smile comes into her focus.  

She smiles in response, her eyes are a bit blurred because of all the tears, she wipes them with some strength. She now has clarity, but no vision. The saree is disintegrating, its just rain slits now.

She turns around in response to a hand on her shoulder, finds her dad looking at her enquiringly. She smiles at him, gets up, walks him to kitchen, and makes him a hot  coffee.

Power goes out, she lights a candle. The flame flickers dangerously, the wind has seeped into the house. She guards it with her palm. It stays, its resilience pays off. She catches her mothers smile again, this time in the flame. She smiles and checks the phone, all notifications show wishes for a Happy Mothers' day.