Strife between a mother and a daughter: impossible

saleh By saleh, 7th Jul 2012 | Follow this author | RSS Feed
Posted in Wikinut>Writing>Short Stories

A story that revolves around a girl, Urooj, who faces additional issues with her mother other than her adolescence.

Amending Chasms

My early childhood, as I recall, was blissful and contented. My world revolved around my grandmother, who brought me up after the separation of my parents when I was one year old. The reason behind their separation never interested me as both of them were more or less like ghosts to me. All I knew about them were some sketchy descriptions by grandma. She didn’t have their pictures and they never wrote to us. Everything however was perfect.

It was our custom to get up early in the morning without alarms. Alarms were my least favorite objects and every other thing which disrupts one’s nerves. Grandmother and I got along with each other as both of us had almost everything in common. About the uncommon stuff: we compromised. The mellow music, classics, poetry, riding about the countryside and even chess amused us equally. However, our choices of soap serials were the only cause of our bantering. But no, there was a special spice in that too and ofcourse, what is life without spice!

My junior school was pretty good. Though I was not The topper but I could talk to anybody on any subject. Grandma thought this was a rare ability and I should be proud of it. I was happy the way I was but sometimes you can’t just help being envious of the brighter ones. I was always surprised to see my conduct in class and attitude towards studies being the best in class, as written in my report card. Grandma always had answers to my absurd questions. She said ``questions are just questions; it is their apprehension which makes them absurd or probing. ``

Life was a fantasy until grandma breathed her last. On the eve of her burial, a stranger called upon our home and declared herself as my mother. I could not deny this fact as the twinkle in her eyes and the twitch of her lips had great resemblance with mine. Therefore, I started packing as she would be my guardian now. The rift between us started brewing right after she ordered me to leave everything and to just pack my essentials; she would buy me new stuff. Who could explain her that it’s not the stuff one cares about, it’s about the memories related to that piece of non-living thing which binds the past in a beautiful picture. And to look at that souvenir means to peep into past. Alas!

I was 14 when I moved in with her, about time I started my high school. We rarely spoke except when no other choice existed. I was sent to the most prestigious and up-to-date school, as I was told. I think it was up-to-date in terms of bullying. Being friends with anybody was a trait I was blessed with. However, things got a u-turn when I came here. I never knew when I became introvert and problematic.

I was not fond of my school but atleast there was something to do there. Back from school, I usually found myself in a heap of debris. It was a wonder how this woman had lived in a mess like this. She cooked and cleaned only on Sundays and the rest of her weekdays, or more precisely her life, was purely devoted to her career. I doubted that she ever felt my presence. Until I found my music and book collection in the rubbish one day. I was hysteric, naturally. They were like my treasure and my only friends in those days. I yelled at her, called her names and what not. Her blank stare was triggering me to do more. She took an eternity to say ``fantasies always blow up in your face Urooj, its better you stay away from that rubbish`` in a casual tone. In short, she was everything which I was not.

My mornings were no more pleasant. To add to my miseries, her house banged with alarms and there was no escaping from that shrilly voice. I sometimes remembered those calm, soothing times I shared with grandma. I needed her now more than ever. My teenage tantrums were barely controllable and there was no one I could talk to!

Time wore on and somehow I indulged myself in sports. Surprisingly, this was the first thing my mother approved of me. Rafay, basketball player of our school became my friend. I started playing table tennis but then I realized that cheerleading would be more fun. I was coming to terms with my life again. In moments of bleakness I had often imagined myself being ended up as Virginia Woolf, for whom life was ``terrible, hostile and quick to pounce on you if you ever gave it a chance. ``

I invited my mother on the final match of basketball in our school, as everybody participating had to. It was a perfect evening which who knew would bring my mother and me closer. On the way back home she talked to me about Rafay and our relationship. After sometime she said `` I don’t want you to go astray as I had. Relationships are not easy to maintain and its best that you don’t step in them till you are prepared, otherwise all ends in a mess. `` I explained her that I am not into any relationships and glad to know that you care. To my utter amazement: she smiled!

She explained that the reason behind throwing my treasure was for my good. She didn’t want me to expect because that is what you unconsciously tend to do when one gets involved with classics and mellow music. That is what ruined her and she attempted to save me from that ``folly`` as she called it. My reply was ``it was your duty to advise me, but let me choose my way and experience things on my own. ``

Work cited
Woolf, Virginia. To The Lighthouse 1927. Published by Leonard & Virginia Woolf at the Hogarth Press, London.


Adolescence, Broken Family, Orphan Child

Meet the author

author avatar saleh
I am a student of English Literature. I am a diligent worker nd most of the time am able to complete tasks on time. I'll love to do stuff which is related to my field.

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