NOSTALGIA AT HOMESTAY

While I was a child, my mom always used to play on gramophone for feeding me and stopping my obstinate crying. Sweet touch of my mom on my forehead was always filling my tiny brain with ecstacy which now I search for but never get in spite of praying God or offering worship and sweets to the deities of the temple daily. My sincere craving always turns a fool's paradise, from nowhere from nobody I can get a healing touch which my mom was giving me.

That divine touch of my mom was sheerly devoid of selfish motive without any reciprocity as I feel I can never expect to derive out of the present mammonish world. If I struggle at my best for recovery of that decades old sentimental selfless touch of my mom I must have to cry in the wilderness. Though o times o manners are no more still there is an invisible affectionate and cordial touch of my beloved mom by mental telepathy through ether well serves my craving while every dawn I salute the oil painting of her after leaving bed which rejuvenates me in sexagenerianhood even in the foreign field being departed from my octogenarian mom.(an emotional expression at home stay)