The room was filled with her friends, cousins and aunts, yet Tista’s eyes shifted again and again to the door. Where is she, Tista frowned.
‘You look beautiful in this Saree, Tista!’ Her Aunt exclaimed.
The word ‘Saree’ brought back a memory; she smiled to herself –
‘Mom, can I wear your saree?…and these bangles?…and this necklace?’ Little Tista asked, her eyes glinting with delight.
Her mother nodded; she watched her daughter as she tried in vain to drape the Saree, then applied some lipstick that smudged all over her face; turning to her mother, she said, ‘See Mom, I’m looking like you!’
Her mother burst into laughter.
‘Mom, you know nothing about all this, so don’t preach okay?’ Tista scoffed.
‘Listen to me – ‘ Her mother tried to stop her, but…
Tista cut in – ‘Mom, you are so old-fashioned…time’s changed!!’ She rolled her eyes.
– Tista recalled one of her arguments with her mother and burst out laughing; what a fool I was, She muttered.
‘Do call me once you reach College, okay?’ Her mother handed her the lunchbox.
Tista left in a hurry.
An hour later, Tista’s phone rang; she answered.
‘I told you to call.’ Said her mother.
‘Oh I forgot…anyway I’ll talk to you later.’ She hung up before her mother could say anything else.
– She could feel tears welling up as the moment flashed before her eyes.
From now on I won’t be coming home everyday to you Mom, she sighed –
‘I told you not to call me at work.’ Tista said, answering her phone.
‘It’s quite late…when are you – ‘
‘Oh Mom!! I’ve got a lot of work today…I’ll be late.’ Tista hung up, feeling irritated.
Tista looked at her reflection in the mirror; her friends and cousins couldn’t stop gushing over her wedding attire, her makeup and jewelry.
But all she saw was a little girl whose eyes were looking for her mother.
‘Are you ready?’
Tista turned back hearing her mother’s voice.
Tears that gathered in the corner of her eyes, rolled down her face finally.
‘What happened?’ Asked her mother.
‘I’m sorry.’ She whispered.
‘Silly girl!!’ Holding her hand, she took her daughter to her groom.
‘God, please take care of her…’ She prayed as she let go of her daughter’s hand.
Written by Chirasree, a dreamer.