Take Me With You

By Juveriya Fatima

The rain was pouring as she laid in her broken bed, alone, wrapped in the only piece of cloth that she had ever owned. The walls of her hut were tumbling down. Her skin was pale and cold, her little body, too weary to let her move even an inch. An idol of patience, she peered at the entrance, waiting for her son to come and take her home. Yes, she was hungry. She had been starving for a couple of days now- a poor picture of misery.

Her pale wrinkled fingers trembled as the cold wind whistled through the half-broken window and struck against her fragile body. Her sorrow-stricken heart, pounded in her chest, as she heard the violent sound of thunder. She had been afraid of thunder and lightning for over a century now.

Suddenly she felt a touch, a familiar one. Her chapped lips parted in vague as she gasped. Her weary eyes widened, pupils dilated, as she saw a familiar face. No, it was not her son. He was too engrossed in the worldly affairs to make some time to meet his own mother. That face was of her long-dead mother, the one whose touch she had craved, for almost an eternity. Her mother had been the only one who ever loved her.

After four decades, she smiled. It was a wide one. Yes, she wanted to hop on her mother's lap, just as she used to when she was a toddler, but her old body forbade her. Her throat was too dry and weary to even let out a whisper. Her thin wrinkled fingers quivered with joy. At hundred, that was the most she could have done to express her joyousness. Her tongue was still but her teary eyes- they were speaking volumes. If only she could move her tongue just to let out a quiet murmur of help, "take me with you!"

Her mother didn't need any elucidation. That is how mothers are, they just know everything.

Suddenly, a state of euphoria took over her melancholy. It was evident that she was happy. She had not known this emotion called 'happiness' in these four decades. And then, her vision began turning blurry. The sound of the pouring rain, violent thunder and whistling wind began to echo in her head. She couldn't feel her body anymore. She felt as light as a cloud, wandering over the lush green meadows of her hometown.

Her mother held her hand, ran her fingers through her dry white hair, giving her a sense of comfort- comfort of being home. She had come to take her daughter, with her, to a better place. She kissed her daughter's forehead, as a drop of tear rolled down her child's wrinkled face.

A soul went up to God that night.

By Juveriya Fatima