^{@arjinarahman ©
#Bangladesh 🇧🇩}

Mom is Still Waiting.

^{Still Waiting.}

The memories and reality are like the sunlight and darkness mixed in evening sky. The one who missed the old times is Neelima Begum. She pulled her beloved cat Mithu to her lap and is sitting on a red wooden-handled chair. Her eyes are looking outside the window, but her mind is lost in memories.

"Mom, I will come to you on Friday. I haven’t eaten your payesh for a long time. Please make some for me?"

A few days ago, Nishat had called and said this. After a long time, Neelima Begum was so happy to cook for her daughter. She was busy from the morning, she went to the market, then cleaned the house and finally reached to the kitchen to cook Nishat’s favorite dishes.

She remembered little Nishat. When nishat come home from school, she used to fall asleep with her head on her mother’s lap. At night, she secretly read storybooks. She hid her face in her mother’s saree when she was being upset and cried. Now, she is a busy officer in Narayanganj, Dhaka with big responsibilities. She wants to spend time with her mother but she cannot.

Friday came. After noon was past and Evening came. Neelima Begum kept looking at the clock again and again. Every second felt longer. She went to the door a many times and came back. There was the sweet fragnace of sweet payesh in the house. But the one for whom payesh was made hadn’t arrived yet.

Finally, in the evening a phone call came.

"Mom, please don’t be upset. There is too much work at the office! I can’t come today. In Sha Allah I will be coming next week."

Neelima Begum smiled a little. She hid her sadness and said in a gentle voice, "It’s okay, dear. Work is important. Stay well and come when you can."

Taking the phone down, she looked outside. The headlights of passing cars were shining on the road, but her door would not open today.

She picked up a gray-framed photo from the table. In the picture, the little Nishat was hugging to mother's neck, and laughing. She wearing a blue frock. Neelima Begum’s heart was still full of that laugh.

The pot of payesh was covered by her. Perhaps, tomorrow morning she would feed a bowl of it to the little Rimi from the neighboring house. She would seek a small shadow of Nishat’s childhood in her.

Outside it was blowing evening breeze. The darkness was growing, just like a mother’s endless wait…

I invite following users for the contest
@hljott
@vonnaputra
@sarix

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Here is: Contest Link .
Organized by @solperez Ma'am.