Story: 7 Nights In Cradle

“A beautiful baby he is, congratulations on a new addition to your family!”, said a jocular looking, fat lady nurse of 46 to my mother. And life started for me when I was cut off from the band of support and nurture of my mother’s body while everyone in the ward room 492 could hear me crying. I was welcomed with warm bath of rose water with essential oils of all kinds: Coconut, shea butter, argan, lavender and what not? With sheets of pure wool and cotton stitched to perfection and mittens made of sheer warm affection of Grandma. I was, undoubtedly, got played like a melodious song that showers nothing but high hopes, happiness and prosperity for all; Nothing but the whitest shade of ivory; The kerosene for the oil lamp. After weeks and weeks of peak celebrations accompanied by dancing and singing and colours, all people bid farewell and left with cordial messages for me about how excited they were to see me grown into a young sparking man with magic in his eyes and the power to unlock all the hidden secrets the world has – just as they’d put a sapling in mud pot, water it and then wait for the progress.

And then, one night I was put in a customized cradle to sleep, on the onset I could hear the soothing voice of my mother singing lullabies for me. I could hear the occasional sound of the mosquito buzz swinging between my two ears and the slow rhythmic oscillation of a ceiling fan. Eventually everything seems to get faint and vague just like mist on a window. I got half hypnotized and my eyes gradually demurred, diving into a world of darkness so invincible an intense beam of laser wouldn’t trespass it.

A night passed, nothing happened. I began worrying amidst the wickedness of the black fathom. I begin reminiscing the bright days of my welcome, when everything was nothing but sunny, a punch of all flavour some fruits. My mother could see me smiling in my sleep now and she must had thought of the pretty fairies who would be dancing and making merry in my dreams. A whole episode of sweet nostalgia passed but I couldn’t break the morse code of the Dark Queen playing with me.

Another day passed and I began to feel the mountain of burden and pressure I came to this world with. I thought of how high expectations would be built up with me soon as I grow up: New skills, A grades, a shield in sports, successful engineer, caring son, responsible father and a loving husband with tons of cash and an insurance for the whole family with a funny nature and an empathic mind. Future thoughts enveloped me like a tornado and left my mind with nothing but a barren land of weeds.

Two days passed with a pattern of series able to be juxtaposed against each other. Solemn, downright, and thorough anxiety and depression. Though seeming to be too exaggerated for a baby boy but human beings are emotionally all mutual. Now my mother could see me making horrid faces with signals of crying and sudden unrest in my body, scratching and limb articulating. She lifted me up in no time, swung me slightly in her arms but I was far gone in a mind perplexing maze. One night I felt panic and the other, distress. All I was focused on were the bad things that were and could happen to me in that demonic state of soot all around my eyes.

The fifth day was the giving up time. I was on low self love and didn’t think I’d be able to combat with the obstacles of life; and why not would I be hopeless? I wasn’t even able to search for a single photon of light for five nights. My mother could see me turn pale and cold. Sweat drops appearing on my forehead and little palms just like dew on rose. My mother started worrying and started calling for help, kissed my head, sprinkled water on me and sobbed.

It was all happening that the sixth night came and all of a sudden I was totally normal _ more numb than normal to be accurate. This was the hardest point, for my mother couldn’t see any visible signs of disruption but I was dead inside. My heart cracked and cracked till I stopped breathing waiting for another day to quit from this carnival of illusions. When the sun set the next day I thought it was my last. All I could hear and see was painful screaming of silence and burning rays of blackness. I was ready for the end.

I was seconds away from getting away from all this mayhem that a piercing wave of scorching light cut straight through my eyes burning them and entering into my heart. I couldn’t recognize the exact feeling but it saved me through the eye of the needle. It was brighter than light, for light couldn’t be this bright and I couldn’t find any source of it. I came to remember the gift God gave me before coming to this world. This light and that gift held a peculiar similarity, a similarity quite impossible to demarcate.

With the light I finally opened my eyes, only to the dumb realization that it was a single night and I had been traveling through the phases of losing faith and finding it back again. Yes I’m going to get lost and get beaten by life and by my own mind as well but this gift will make me through it. With this, I start a new day, waking myself to see me holding the index finger of my mother tightly clenched into my fist

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Author: mishalshaheen

Electrifying emotions with twisting words to a zone of infinitude.

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