Prakriti: Rain Reminds Me Of My Mother

    • Prakriti Shah, class X, Podar International School, Cambridge Assessment International Education, Mu
    • Publish Date: Dec 11 2019 1:32PM
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    • Updated Date: Dec 11 2019 1:32PM
Prakriti: Rain Reminds Me Of My Mother

The smell of the first shower that used to bring joy was now the harbinger of doom. When the first drops fell, we got to know she was sick, but the sun inside her shone as brightly as ever, breaking apart our tears to form a rainbow of hope, a multi-hued delicate, but determined, statement of resilience. After the first shower the rains stopped, and everything around us was more vivid, the lush greens and bright blues deceiving us into letting our guard down. But that was only the calm before the storm.

In the dark of the night, an electric white flash of lightning ripped through the sky and our minds, as the white coats told us she was getting worse. The thunder and the lightning echoed in my head, leaving me unable to hear. Rain rolled down my mom's face as she held us, the gales of wind sweeping her goodbyes away.

I couldn't stay where I was, so I ran away, but I was stepping in mud, sinking in despair as the dark grey clouds furiously battled in my mind, leaving me unable to move ahead, but also unwilling to stay where I was. That was when I heard the first croak, the notes of a frog's song of relentless endurance in the rain, joined by a chorus of overlapping ribbits in harmony, and somehow I knew I could do it. I lifted a foot out of the mud and made it out of what would have eventually engulfed me.

I hugged my mother, and the clouds swirling, tossing, tumbling, crashing in my head finally burst, and rain poured on my cheeks, drenching me. Some of the grey clouds in the sky turned white and floated away. But the monsoon had just begun, and every night there was another clap of lightning, another burst of thunder, another doctor telling us words we couldn't hear.

As we approached the end, a mighty storm hit us, and we didn't see the sun for days. Every new flash of lightning scared us further and we lost our last few seeds of hope. The day she died, all the lakes overflowed and people drowned in our tears. We thought these were the worst three months of our lives, but then followed the next three – the cold, harsh months of winter. All the trees were ripped bare and the cold seeped in through every crack, settling down for good in the hole in hearts where she used to stay.

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