She along with her siblings was leaving for a small trip to their hometown. She checked and re-checked all the things that she might need . It was the first time they were leaving for a trip without their mother , the thought was coming over and over again in her mind.
As they were about to leave , she remembered the thing she was leaving behind. She quickly ran to her room and opened her cupboard. She took out the dupatta (a long scarf), that her mother used to wear. She took that with her.
” Why do you take this dupatta everywhere with you ? ” she remembers one of her friends asking her this question.
” just like that ” she could hardly manage to say.
She recollects all the memories of her with that dupatta . She remembers how she used to follow her mother in a crowded market , clutching that dupatta in her hand.
She won’t let that go.
She remembers how her mother used to cover her face and head with that dupatta to protect her from the sunlight.
She remembers how she used to wear that dupatta and used to imagine herself as a school teacher , teaching alot of imaginary students.
She won’t take that off.
She remembers how her mother used to tie that dupatta around her head , when her head ached.
She won’t loose that grip.
She remembers how her mother used to wipe her tears with her dupatta every time she cried.
She won’t let that dry.
She can smell of her mother , as the dupatta still carries her fragrance with it . Each time she put it on, she would feel her presence, as if she was still enveloped in her chortling kindness.Hugging and wearing that dupatta around her neck , she can still feel the warmth of her mother , in that warm memory of her.
– Unnati Madan