Mom

By Krisha Kaushal Dave

This story is about a little girl and how her mom withheld every single pain that the strom caused her and not even a breeze touched my face that could mess up my hair

Ek ladki thi jo hasti si muskurati si rehti thi

Kabhi logo ke taane toh kabhi dosto ke usko naa bulane ek bahane sab kuch ek muskan ke sath seh liya karti thi,

Bhale hi voh duniya ke liye patli kaali badsurat kaisi bhi thi apni maa ke liye voh duniya ki sabse khubsurat ladki thi,

Usne bhi apni maa pe utna hi bharosa kiya tha ki kab unki ek chooti si taarif uske liye hausla ban gayi use paata bhi nahi chala tha.

Ek ladki thi jo hasti si muskurati si rehti thi

Kabhi duniya se toh kabhi khudki insecurities se daar jaaya karti thi par apni maa ka aanchal dekh voh saare ghum bhula diya karti thi,

Logo ke itne rishte dekh be it boyfriend or best friend thoda roh bhi liya karti thi par ghar aakar voh saare rishte apni maa se jodd liya karti thi.

Ek ladki thi jo hasti si muskurati si rehti thi.

Bhale hi duniyadaari ki itni samaj nahi thi usse aree aathvi kaksha mai thi kya hi samaj hoti use, par logo ko uske baare mai baat karta dekh dil mai kuch chubhta tha usse,

School ke un 6 ghanto mai apni maa ki goad har khone mai khoj liya karti thi par fir washroom mai jaakar thoda khud ko samet liya karti thi,

Ek ladki thi jo bahar se hasti si muskurati si rehti thi.

By Krisha Kaushal Dave