മഴപ്പെയ്ത്ത്

I dream of blood soaked feet, days before it actually spills over my clothes. The blood red dreams found way to my sleepy eyes as any other month. The dream was not too lengthy, Feet sunk in a pool of blood, and my reason reminded, its routine. Then I saw the grapevine entangling my legs and the small leaves sprouting to life. The hands of the vines found its roots inside my belly. I heard it clear, the plant called me ‘mumma’. The death of my child who never called me mother was not a sudden thunder upon my spring. He kept telling me every day, I will miss you and I will wait for you.  I was half ripe when I found him, and still unripe while losing him. I do not remember the way he found me. But I knew he would, for he was where I belonged, for he was who I am.  He first informed his arrival, beating up the little heart within the home he built inside me. It was so loud that I kept on listening to it, no matter, to whom all I talked .  In a fine Sunday, he called me 'mum...