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Talk with Mom

Talk with Mom

Having got the nod, Riya now proceeds to the washroom. Soon, sheโ€™s out with a chilling bath. Now, she finds herself in front of her wardrobe searching for a dress to get ready for โ€˜Last dayโ€™. Meanwhile, her mother walks into her bedroom fuming at the sight of the messy bed; crowned by the wet towel. โ€˜God knows what will this girl do after her marriageโ€™ she begins with her rethoric. โ€˜oh mamma, I am still in school, thereโ€™s still much time to ponder upon all theseโ€™ Riya replies. โ€˜School, itโ€™s over today naโ€™ her mother asks. Exasperated by her motherโ€™s response, Riya says โ€˜Does that mean I sit for marriage tomorrow? Donโ€™t you want me to study.โ€™

Startled by Riyaโ€™s response, her mother leaves the towel she hold on the bed and moves to console her enraged daughter. โ€˜Of course, I want. Your father too wants to see you study, perhaps more than mine. Itโ€™s just thatโ€ฆ. Ok sorry beta, sorry.โ€™

Riya gets cherished by her motherโ€™s response, she abruptly hugs her. Thatโ€˜s how she is. Frequent mood changes. Happy now, sad then. And her anger always at her nose, ready to burst as and when things donโ€™t go her way. โ€˜Ok Mamma, I am sorry too. I just carried away a bit. You know todayโ€™s the last day at school so I am having heightened emotions of excitement, gloom, happiness, and all the rest, you know.โ€™

โ€˜Itโ€™s okay beta. But, excitement I get it. But why gloom?โ€™ Her mother asks.

โ€˜Isnโ€™t it natural? After all, I have been in this school for the last 12 years.โ€™, Riya replies.

โ€˜Yeah thatโ€™s true. Listening to you, now I realise how time has just flown awayโ€ฆ I still clearly remember your cute and teary-eyed face the first day. Hope you donโ€™t end this journey on the same note as you started it.โ€™

Riyaโ€™s eyes light up listening to her mother, โ€˜I am getting nostalgic already. Just think of it. 12 yearsโ€ฆ. So many friends came and went. So did numerous teachers. But I stood there as a constant amidst a changing environmentโ€™

With raised eye brows, her mother asks โ€˜Getting poetic, ha. Not in love, are youโ€™

โ€˜Of course not Mammaโ€™

โ€˜Yeah better. You dare not, especially not without your papaโ€™s permissionโ€™, Her mother replies with a relieved expression.

โ€˜Did you need to begin that againโ€ฆโ€™ says Riya, visibly frustrated by her motherโ€™s reaction.

โ€˜Itโ€™s nothing to be angry, Riya. You are now growing up. So, you should know being a young girl is difficult in this society. And this things just add to your difficulty, you know. But donโ€™t be upset now, itโ€™s your day. Enjoyโ€™

โ€˜I donโ€™t know what all these has to do with my being a girl. But okay I shall not argue with you todayโ€™

โ€˜Alright. Enjoy the day. But only for today. Then no outing for a month till your boards are over.โ€™ โ€˜Now get ready soonโ€™, says her mother walking out of her room.

โ€˜In a minute, mammaโ€™, Riya replies from her dressing table.


Within a few minutes, Riya gets out to the veranda of her huge house, clad in the โ€˜dress codeโ€™ decided for the day, viz white T shirt and blue jeans. Her Father back from his morning walk, greets her. โ€˜Looking so cute my bacha. Last day at school? Enjoy.โ€™ โ€˜Sure papa, bye. See you โ€™, Riya replies gleefully. As she was about to move out, her grandma comes into the veranda, relieved of her hour long prayer. Riya greets her, โ€˜Oh hello Grannyโ€™.

โ€˜Are you going to school in that dress?โ€™, asks her grandma with an expression of shock.

โ€˜ Aree, Grandmaa itโ€™s my last day at schoolโ€™, she says stooping close to her. Then, she whispers in her ears, โ€˜Anyways gone are your days and thoughtsโ€™ and shouts โ€˜BYE BYEEโ€ฆ. Mamma, papaโ€™. Before she finishes, her School bus arrives. And goes Riya for one last time to her school..




Status: Ongoing Type: , Author: Native Language: English
๐™ˆ๐™ค๐™™๐™š๐™ง๐™ฃ ๐™ก๐™ž๐™›๐™š ๐™ž๐™ฃ ๐™– ๐™˜๐™ž๐™ฉ๐™ฎ ๐™–๐™ฅ๐™ฅ๐™š๐™–๐™ง๐™จ ๐™ฉ๐™ค ๐™—๐™š ๐™ซ๐™š๐™ง๐™ฎ ๐™ก๐™ž๐™—๐™š๐™ง๐™–๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™œ ๐™ฌ๐™๐™š๐™ฃ ๐™ฎ๐™ค๐™ช ๐™๐™–๐™ซ๐™š ๐™ฅ๐™ง๐™ž๐™ซ๐™ž๐™ก๐™š๐™™๐™œ๐™š๐™จ ๐™ก๐™ž๐™ ๐™š๐™—๐™ž๐™œ ๐™–๐™ฅ๐™ฅ๐™–๐™ง๐™ฉ๐™ข๐™š๐™ฃ๐™ฉ,๐™– ๐™—๐™ž๐™œ ๐™—๐™–๐™ฃ๐™  ๐™—๐™–๐™ก๐™–๐™ฃ๐™˜๐™š ๐™ž๐™ฃ ๐™ฎ๐™ค๐™ช๐™ง ๐™ฅ๐™–๐™ง๐™š๐™ฃ๐™ฉ๐™จ' ๐™—๐™–๐™ฃ๐™  ๐™–๐™˜๐™˜๐™ค๐™ช๐™ฃ๐™ฉ, ๐™–๐™™๐™š๐™ฆ๐™ช๐™–๐™ฉ๐™š ๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™›๐™ค๐™ง๐™ข๐™–๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™ค๐™ฃ ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™–๐™ฅ๐™ฅ๐™ง๐™ค๐™ฅ๐™ง๐™ž๐™–๐™ฉ๐™š ๐™ฃ๐™š๐™ฉ๐™ฌ๐™ค๐™ง๐™  ๐™ค๐™› ๐™ฅ๐™š๐™ค๐™ฅ๐™ก๐™š.๐™ƒ๐™š๐™ฃ๐™˜๐™š ๐™ข๐™ค๐™™๐™š๐™ง๐™ฃ๐™ž๐™ฉ๐™ฎ ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™ฅ๐™ง๐™ž๐™ซ๐™ž๐™ก๐™š๐™™๐™œ๐™š๐™จ ๐™œ๐™ค ๐™๐™–๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™ž๐™ฃ ๐™๐™–๐™ฃ๐™™.๐˜ฝ๐™ช๐™ฉ ๐™ฌ๐™๐™–๐™ฉ ๐™ž๐™› ๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™š ๐™ž๐™จ ๐™ข๐™ค๐™™๐™š๐™ง๐™ฃ ๐™—๐™ช๐™ฉ ๐™ฃ๐™ค๐™ฉ ๐™ฅ๐™ง๐™ž๐™ซ๐™ž๐™ก๐™š๐™™๐™œ๐™š๐™™.๐˜ผ๐™จ ๐™จ๐™ช๐™˜๐™ ๐™ˆ๐™ค๐™™๐™š๐™ง๐™ฃ๐™ž๐™ฉ๐™ฎ ๐™—๐™ง๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™œ๐™จ ๐™ฌ๐™ž๐™ฉ๐™ ๐™ž๐™ฉ๐™จ๐™š๐™ก๐™› ๐™ฃ๐™š๐™ฌ ๐™ฉ๐™ฎ๐™ฅ๐™š๐™จ ๐™ค๐™› ๐™ง๐™š๐™จ๐™ฉ๐™ง๐™ž๐™˜๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™จ ๐™–๐™ฃ๐™™ ๐™˜๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™จ๐™ฉ๐™ง๐™–๐™ž๐™ฃ๐™ฉ๐™จ. ๐™๐™๐™ž๐™จ ๐™ฃ๐™ค๐™ซ๐™š๐™ก๐™ก๐™– '๐˜พ๐™–๐™œ๐™š๐™™ ' ๐™ž๐™จ ๐™–๐™ก๐™ก ๐™–๐™—๐™ค๐™ช๐™ฉ ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š๐™จ๐™š ๐™˜๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™จ๐™ฉ๐™ง๐™ž๐™˜๐™ฉ๐™ž๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™จ ๐™ค๐™› ๐™ข๐™ค๐™™๐™š๐™ง๐™ฃ ๐™ก๐™ž๐™›๐™š ๐™ค๐™› ๐™ฃ๐™ค๐™ฉ ๐™จ๐™ค ๐™ฅ๐™ง๐™ž๐™ซ๐™ž๐™ก๐™š๐™œ๐™š๐™™ ๐™ฅ๐™š๐™ค๐™ฅ๐™ก๐™š ๐™ฉ๐™๐™ง๐™ค๐™ช๐™œ๐™ ๐™ฉ๐™๐™š ๐™ก๐™š๐™ฃ๐™จ ๐™ค๐™› ๐™ฉ๐™ฌ๐™ค ๐™ฎ๐™ค๐™ช๐™ฃ๐™œ ๐™ฉ๐™š๐™š๐™ฃ๐™จ ๐™ž๐™ฃ ๐™จ๐™š๐™ฅ๐™–๐™ง๐™–๐™ฉ๐™š ๐™—๐™ช๐™ฉ ๐™ฃ๐™ค๐™ฉ ๐™ซ๐™š๐™ง๐™ฎ ๐™™๐™ž๐™›๐™›๐™š๐™ง๐™š๐™ฃ๐™ฉ ๐™š๐™ฃ๐™ซ๐™ž๐™ง๐™ค๐™ฃ๐™ข๐™š๐™ฃ๐™ฉ.


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