In Rags And Tatters.

His scar hasn’t ached for 19 years but then one wretched day, some scorching, knife-like words not only induced pain but also, butchered through the scar, leaving a changed man behind.

“You’re no good, you stray tramp! Take your filthy face out of my house right away,” he recalled while aggressively wiping his tears away. Kicking the stones that came in his way, he held on to his intrepidity and giving a backseat to the incessant memories, he walked on. He was certain he’d be able to contain the sorrow that had taken over a while back.

For a moment, his eyes welled up to the motherly love he had received from a mother who was never his. The way she looked at him and embraced him giving him double the warmth he could ever receive. The pointless reflection, at least so perceived, made it difficult for him to keep his tears from rolling down his face.

After some time a sudden happiness kicked in. What was that something that had filtered the air of hopelessness giving way to that familiar ticklish feeling?  It was the aroma of hot coco she used to make him everyday. How he wished he could describe the aroma in an array of letter but, words failed him. As he walked around aimlessly, he caught a glimpse of a mother kissing her dear infant and putting him to sleep safely in her arms, taking him to a world far away from the monstrous reality.

There was no denying the fact that he missed her, his family, his world. Could he walk back to a place where he never belonged, very well knowing that he was redundant there, knowing his mother would never take him back? He shrugged over the fact that he let the opportunity to say the holy word ‘mother ‘slip out of his hands like sand.

Shaking his head no as hard as he could, he distracted himself by thinking about the sharp words she said to him – “You are no good you homeless tramp. What else could anyone have expected from a sick person like you? You are an abomination. Take your dirty, greedy face out of my house right away.” The words echoed across his head to the point of frustration.

Her words cut deep, deeper than any blade. Her words made him cross paths with the leach of a past that he’d been running away from. Running and dodging to till he face-planted to the ground. His blood came to a boil, he was devastated. A strong feeling of contempt took over. he felt powerful and vulnerable at the same time. He was constantly battling with myself, to be specific. “My worthless self!” he started sulking and crying. It was evident that he was falling apart. Realizing how alone he was in this world, a whirlpool of questions came at him – “What will I do? Where will I go? How will I manage?”

But the only answers he had at that time were – something, somewhere and somehow.