I had been in the habit of sleeping in the car during any journey for quite a few years then, and that one wasn't anomalous. My eyelids became renegades for my inquisitive mind which was lost in rumination. I could comprehend its curiosity, but couldn't cater to its needs anymore. I was tired, for I had been running some irksome errands and I needed rest to brace myself for a new juncture of life. Ultimately, all my efforts to stay awake went in vain as I bade a reticent adieu to the curtains of consciousness.
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As my eyes opened, I found myself before the front door of my house. I descended the car only to find my elder brother ferociously kicking and banging the door. It didn't take me much time to realise the problem. Maa wasn't opening the door. I promptly joined him in the struggle but my muscles froze out of fear. Fear, I tell you, is a bitch. I could hardly support my brother as my hands were shaky and my knees, feeble. For calling what my mind pictured at that moment a premonition would be unjust. It was a prediction; one I desperately wanted to be wrong.
With all our might, we broke through the adamant door only to find the inevitable. Our dread had travelled through the fabric of non-existence and imagination to come to reality.
Shock seized us as we witnessed the devastation which had befallen us. It was as if the sands of time had ceased to follow the laws of gravity. For that moment, the power of my mind had rendered them inert. I wondered if the sand was too bored of being poured down into an abyss, for time was eternal, and it was never going back to the other side of the hourglass. My brother's scream broke my chain of thoughts. My heart skipped a beat as I beheld my misery. With teary eyes, I saw her, hanging from the ceiling fan. Her favourite dupatta had become her saviour from the miserable life she was leading. She was liberated from this cesspool better known as life. Her pale face was engulfed with eternal serenity. Tears distorted my vision but they couldn't stop me from seeing how all the pain had escaped her body in a snap. As I looked at her face for one last time, trauma overpowered my senses and I passed out.
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The car came to a halt as I woke up, intensely gasping for breath. As my subconscious slowly faded away into the shadows of surreality, I took a sigh of relief. My eyes looked up to thank God for that was just a bad dream.
For a 13-year old, even the fantasy of being separated from his mother could be horrendous. I was still panting. The dream was over, but the impressions of it were tormenting me. I wanted to see Maa. I wanted to hug her and wash away all my dreads on her lap. She was sitting in the backseat with my brother.
But fore I could turn around to look at her, a voice called for me.
"Bhai sahab, Haridwar aa gaya." said the driver.
Still petrified by the dream, I slowly turned to look at her. My eyes widened as reality punched me right in the face. Brother was holding the pot that contained her ashes. My mother's soul had found a new body, and it was beautiful indeed. Dressed in golden, with a red veil to give shelter to her holy remains.
With a teary eye, I took it from my brother to embrace Maa for the last time in material state. Immersing her ashes in the holy waters of The Ganges, I tried to convince myself that I had been a good son.