Mother

She was running very fast. The scythe in her right hand was dripping with blood. There was an empty sack in her other hand. Her eyes were bright. Her nerves taut with tension, her heart full of emotions. It was hard for her to distinguish the feeling that overwhelmed her.

It was late evening by the time she came back to her hut. The last rays of the sun had begun to eat away the lightness of the day. She washed away the blood from the scythe in the nearby river. The wind blew strong. It whispered the screams that she had left behind. She ignored its chill. The grass seemed to be tangling around her ankles like ropes. “The grass has grown too long,” she thought a little irritated. She walked back home and settled to light her fire.

He came back from the town with his books. They had been a good excuse to get away from this place. “And her”, he thought. They had been bickering again. She couldn’t shout as much now though. She could see the determination in his eyes. He knew it made her angry and sad. Eventually, she will grow tired.

She knew he was not going to stay. She knew he was not a child anymore. She knew he couldn’t sit on her lap and eat from her hands. She knew he didn’t want to work her fields.

He sat next to her without a word. The sun was hanging low on the window sill. The palette of colors disappearing in the all consuming black of the night. He lit the lantern. He thought about electricity and yearned for his hostel. She looked at him and followed his thoughts through his eyes. He looked down and sat down. She put a plate in front of him and served him his food. He ate in silence. Later, she ate herself and started putting away the utensils.

It was his ritual to sit with Raha, at night. The horse had been his friend since he was a child. They had been bought up together. Both strong and independent. No rope could be held against Raha’s neck. Like mine, he thought and smiled.

He entered the stead. It was empty. That wasn’t unusual. Raha liked to roam around on his own. There were times when he was out for days at end. But he always returned. Just like me, he thought. He looked up at the canopy of stars and decided to wait for his beloved horse to return.

...She was riding very fast. The forest was but a green blur. The sun rays were dripping slowly from her forehead. Her one hand griped the horse and the other held a sack. Her scythe was in it. The horse was panting. But it was strong. He held his own.

She could feel Raha tiring beneath her. It made her feel good. It made her feel strong. It made her feel in control. She rode him faster. Her head was full of his voice. A voice she couldn't recognize. It was strong and heavy. Determined. His eyes. They were so big and distant. She had searched for her child in them. She was angry because those eyes had drowned her little boy. The words. They were in a language she didn't know. Didn't care about. It wasn't hers.

She whipped Raha. It surprised him. She rarely whipped him. He didn't like it. He stopped. She whipped again. He threw her off. She fell on the ground. She looked in his eyes. She saw the eyes that she had seen earlier that morning. She stared at them for a long moment. Then she emptied her sack...