Inspired by a true story. The name of the character has been changed.
The day was nearing to an end. The station looked abandoned except for the lone begger sleeping in a bench and the empty tea stall. Mugilan sat on an empty bench nearby. The next train would arrive in an hour. He felt tired as if he had worked all day. He stretched himself, closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander. His mother. His village.
"What do you want the money for?" he heard his mother's voice. "I am planning to start some business" he said. "What about the five thousand you took last time? What happened to it?" she whispered. "You know what happened, the money got spent."
"Do you know how difficult it was for me to get that five thousand" she wailed, "none of our relatives were willing to give it, as they said you were a good for nothing. I somehow persuaded your uncle to give it."
"I know! I know!" he shouted. "But this time I promise you that this would be a very profitable business and I am sure of making a lot of money from it."
"How many times have you made such promises" she cried, hitting her forehead with her hand.
"Stop all this crying and tell me whether you would give this money or not" he said without a sign of remorse in his eyes. "I do not have this much money my son" she said.
"Listen woman, I am going out now " he scowled "and I want the money by evening when I return." He stormed out of the house in a rage.
She let her head rest in her palms and sobbed to her hearts fill. Her meagre monthly salary for working as a mid-day meal incharge in the neighbouring village's school was just enough for her living. She could hardly save anything. Whatever little she could save was spent by her son in smoking, drinking and gambling. Inspite of all this she somehow managed to get her two daughters married. They were happy and well settled.
She got up. She had to go for her work today. But before that she had to somehow collect the money. She went to her brother's house which was nearby. He had already lent her a lot of money. Last time she had to literally beg from him for the money. She was afraid of his reaction this time.
He was sitting outside. "Heard some noises from your house in the morning. Had a fight with your son again?" He queried. "I need your help" she said. "Will you please lend me some money now?" He looked at her with a scorn, "so your son has again started asking for money? Listen now, I am not going to give anymore money to be wasted by your son. He is taking advantage of you. You have to be stern with him."
"But..." her voice quivered. "Please," he said with folded hands, "don't bother me anymore. It's better dying than living a life like this."
She could persuade him no more. She took some heavy steps back to her home. Her head was aching heavily and she felt dizzy. She lit the stove to make some gruel. She gazed at the fire pondering over her troubles. Maybe she had not brought up her son well, but it was so tough for her to manage everything after her husband died.
The fire seemed to be mocking her. She smiled. It would not be for long. Her problems would now come to an end. She took one end of her saree and threw it on the stove. Everything would come to an end.
Mugilan was as usual gambling with his group of friends. At a distance he could see a fellow villager running towards him shouting his name. He felt something was wrong. "Mugilan, your mother is dead. She committed suicide." the villager shouted gasping for breath.
The sound of the distant train woke him up. It had been an hour since he had dozed off. Rockfort Express was coming right on time. He knew the train did not halt at this station. He smiled looking above towards the dark sky. The sun had set.
As the train was about to pass through the platform, he jumped onto the railway tracks. His timing was perfect.
A few local newspapers reported the suicides, but in different sections, as the body on the railway track was reported as unidentified. But none of the papers told about the remorseful son who committed suicide for his mother.
The day was nearing to an end. The station looked abandoned except for the lone begger sleeping in a bench and the empty tea stall. Mugilan sat on an empty bench nearby. The next train would arrive in an hour. He felt tired as if he had worked all day. He stretched himself, closed his eyes and let his thoughts wander. His mother. His village.
"What do you want the money for?" he heard his mother's voice. "I am planning to start some business" he said. "What about the five thousand you took last time? What happened to it?" she whispered. "You know what happened, the money got spent."
"Do you know how difficult it was for me to get that five thousand" she wailed, "none of our relatives were willing to give it, as they said you were a good for nothing. I somehow persuaded your uncle to give it."
"I know! I know!" he shouted. "But this time I promise you that this would be a very profitable business and I am sure of making a lot of money from it."
"How many times have you made such promises" she cried, hitting her forehead with her hand.
"Stop all this crying and tell me whether you would give this money or not" he said without a sign of remorse in his eyes. "I do not have this much money my son" she said.
"Listen woman, I am going out now " he scowled "and I want the money by evening when I return." He stormed out of the house in a rage.
She let her head rest in her palms and sobbed to her hearts fill. Her meagre monthly salary for working as a mid-day meal incharge in the neighbouring village's school was just enough for her living. She could hardly save anything. Whatever little she could save was spent by her son in smoking, drinking and gambling. Inspite of all this she somehow managed to get her two daughters married. They were happy and well settled.
She got up. She had to go for her work today. But before that she had to somehow collect the money. She went to her brother's house which was nearby. He had already lent her a lot of money. Last time she had to literally beg from him for the money. She was afraid of his reaction this time.
He was sitting outside. "Heard some noises from your house in the morning. Had a fight with your son again?" He queried. "I need your help" she said. "Will you please lend me some money now?" He looked at her with a scorn, "so your son has again started asking for money? Listen now, I am not going to give anymore money to be wasted by your son. He is taking advantage of you. You have to be stern with him."
"But..." her voice quivered. "Please," he said with folded hands, "don't bother me anymore. It's better dying than living a life like this."
She could persuade him no more. She took some heavy steps back to her home. Her head was aching heavily and she felt dizzy. She lit the stove to make some gruel. She gazed at the fire pondering over her troubles. Maybe she had not brought up her son well, but it was so tough for her to manage everything after her husband died.
The fire seemed to be mocking her. She smiled. It would not be for long. Her problems would now come to an end. She took one end of her saree and threw it on the stove. Everything would come to an end.
Mugilan was as usual gambling with his group of friends. At a distance he could see a fellow villager running towards him shouting his name. He felt something was wrong. "Mugilan, your mother is dead. She committed suicide." the villager shouted gasping for breath.
The sound of the distant train woke him up. It had been an hour since he had dozed off. Rockfort Express was coming right on time. He knew the train did not halt at this station. He smiled looking above towards the dark sky. The sun had set.
As the train was about to pass through the platform, he jumped onto the railway tracks. His timing was perfect.
A few local newspapers reported the suicides, but in different sections, as the body on the railway track was reported as unidentified. But none of the papers told about the remorseful son who committed suicide for his mother.
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3 comments:
Good experience with the life thoughts. The relation between mother and son is well described here. It shows how the relationship will be damaged if the commitment about the relationship will not be there. Nicely narrated. Keep it up. The part which need to be given more emphasise is the relationship between mother and son before he started making habbits and after his mother commited suicide.
What I can say now is that failure shouldn't be your master. Failure tells us what is wrong, what is not possible, Indeed failure is a great teacher whereas nothing can deceive like success. So, we need to be learner all the times and don't worry for failures, it comes to teach you a leasson. let's failure come and tell them I AM YOUR MASTER..[:)]
Hey Rama,
I must say i am mighty impressed by this blog entry. The flow of the story is beautiful.
The way you have spun the story that actually has very few (but significant) events is amazing. I would say the language you have used is beautiful..Really!
Keep writing!!
Namrata
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