Her pillows absorbed her pains. Those tears had found a home. The ever supportive pillows. So many nights. So many nights when those droplets of pain rained incessantly. The cloudy eyes always dried up the next morning to put up a show of strength. She couldn’t let the pain show. That sense of emptiness was her own. The world was never to know.

Childlessness. It broke her down to pieces. Everyday. She looked for support but couldn’t find any. The world had nothing to offer. Sympathies she couldn’t bear. As her biological clock ticked away, she saw her dream slipping away. Diagnosis, treatments, medicines; the best of the doctors in town had tried it all. None had borne fruit. Prayers had become her source of solace. God wouldn’t let her pleas remain unheard after all.

Miles away, a child called for her mother. She searched for her mother among the stars. Her granny had told her that her mother found a place near God. She questioned that God several times; why did he take her away? I needed her more than him. Those little eyes had questions which no one could answer. Those little eyes bore tears which never found respite. A little angel with a broken soul. That child had pains too big for her age. And she was to handle it all. Life could be so unfair. An accident was all that it took to wipe away her family. 

Two broken souls. In search of completeness. God had a plan. Waiting for execution. The souls were to meet. In times to come. That day did come.

Granny had a routine. The temple darshan over the weekends. Her little companion tagged along. Always. She had questions to ask God. That God who snatched away her mother. Granny had sung praises of this God. The little one argued over his benevolence nonetheless. 

Someone else paid a visit too, the very same day. One of the many temples that she would visit. A mannat for a child. That is what she called it. Her prayers had just one ask. Miracles over medicine. That was her only hope. Destiny had made its plans. 

She was engrossed in her prayers. She heard a child’s voice. She felt a child call out to her. Ma. The little girl called out again. Ma, I knew you would come back to me. God sent you back to me. She turned towards the child. No, she wasn’t her mom.

The disappointed expression on the child’s face; it broke her heart. If only, I were her mom; she wished deep within. Why not, asked her heart? Adoption was one of those plans. The hassles she was wary of. But something within her told her this was it. This might be that child. She did not know it yet. But her heart was set for it. 

What followed were a series of discussions. Meetings. And legal proceedings. Adoption they named it. Love she named it. As the legalities made their way through, a bond was being sealed. Granny turned mediator. Love flowed in abundance. Two broken souls found solace in each other. A mother was born. A daughter born again. Ma, the child calls out today. The word spells music to her ears. 

Today, she is a mother. The little one, a daughter. The day they met was mother’s day. For the two of them. From then on, every day was to be mother’s day for the mother daughter duo. The pillows were stuffed with love; they never got wet ever again. 

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Happy Mother’s Day to all the beautiful mothers in the world!

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