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  • Category: Creative Writing

    A traditional lamp, symbolic of mother's love

    [This story wins the third prize for the creative writing contest 'Me, a lamp']

    Life – Living
    Living is not so easy for Moni Sankar Bose. When he was a mere child of 5, he suddenly lost his father. His father was employed in a trivial job. He was supporting his family with great hardship. After his demise, by stitching garments and doing some small errands for well off villagers, Moni's mother was bringing up Moni with lots of struggle.

    Moni was a very brilliant student. Gradually he passed HS exam and took admission in a reputed college in Kolkata. He also somehow managed to get a job with a meager salary. He would come to his village home almost every week end to see and take care of his mother. he would hand over the greater portion of the salary to his mother every month.

    His was an old cottage with asbestos roof; walls inside were in a shattered condition. In front of the cottage, there was a small garden with narrow path ending to the cottage door. Moni had attached a powerful, brilliant looking lamp at the top of the entrance. Whenever he came from Kolkata, he would shout, "Mother I came. Please open the door". Then the lamp would be put on from inside by his mother. It seemed he was bathing in the shower of the light rays and that the lamp was welcoming him in his own home.

    During past few weeks Moni's mother had been suffering a lot from her chest congestion. Moni asked one day, "Mother, why do you look so pale and gloomy. I think, your health is not going very well. What happened? Please tell me." She pacified him, "Nothing my son. Very slow fever. I have taken medicines. It will be cured very sooner."

    But alas! when Moni was in Kolkata, she silently passed away. All crematory rituals were done by the neighbors. They could not contact Moni.

    Moni came and shouted as usual, "Mother, I came. Please open the door". But unlike before, this time the bright lamp was not put on. Then he repeatedly shouted with a louder tone, "Mother, please open the door. Your son came." He was then standing with a deep silence. A sudden fear came down his spine. He thought that something wrong must have happened to his mother.

    Hearing his shouting and knocking his Jatha Mosai, a neighboring uncle slowly came to him and conveyed the sad news. The uncle unlocked the door from outside, opened, entered the room and put on the traditional lamp as usual.

    Moni sat down on the ground and burst into tears and agony. His nearest and dearest mother is no more on this earth. Jatha mosai was slowly patting on his back to console him. The traditional lamp was also consoling him with great silence, showering its rays over her aggrieved body and it seemed, it was telling him, "come on my boy, nobody is immortal in this world. May her eternal soul rest in peace in her heavenly abode."

    Me, a lamp.......... Part 3 story writing contest
  • #589451
    The author made justice to the creative writing topic by equaling traditional lamp with that of mother's love and that is very interesting and sustaining.
    K Mohan
    'Idhuvum Kadandhu Pogum "
    Even this challenging situation would ease

  • #590097
    A good story. The connection between the front door lamp and mother is very touching. The lamp is appearing as an living object in the plot of story.
    Well done, keep on writing such nice stories for all of us ISCians.

    Knowledge is power.


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