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A glass of life

He folded his knees to his chest, curiously looking out at the tyranneous sandstorm that was shrouding the window glass. His face was pale and his eyes shriveled letting out a tear or two, as time passed by. He could feel his tiny cemented home in the danger of a collapse and his heart in a stormy pace as he was anticipating her return any moment away from the sand storm, safe into their tiny home in warmth and harmony. She had gone by walk a few hours ago to fetch a pail or two for use for the next day after predicting with her keen intelligence that there would ensue a pleasant evening.

But nature had better plans to rip them apart and so it did. His fears about her absence till the then present were growing paramount and he could do absolutely nothing about it. There was just a glass of drinking water left at home and he wanted to retain it for her, in case she returns home in safety.The time waiting was spent in solitude, absolute silence and a few far away memories to lull the misery. The sand storm grew, the sky angrier and it receded into a palish tint, still there was not a knock on the rattling door or the cheery call or a shrill cry.

The glass of water lay still, untouched by his dry lips. He struggled to recede his thirst as he swallowed the little of saliva leftover in his mouth. He lay down on the floor and prayed in silence for his mother's return with his repeated chants and looked up to the cobwebbed ceiling for he had nothing to do and was weak with thirst. The storm had receded and the sky had lightened and his hopes grew higher of seeing her smile, watching her hair ruffle in the desert winds, her warm presence to hug him out of solitude and to share his happiness with.

As the sky turned bright and the storms calmed into winds, he almost had a smile in his weak face as he knew that his mother would return soon, for sure. True to his belief, there was a knock on the door and a shrill call of his name. He crawled to the door as his weak legs didn't resist and he opened the door with all his strength. There she stood, her long robes covered with a million fine specks of the desert sands and her hands trembling against the weight of a pail of muddy water.

She inched forward and picked him up as he hugged her tight with tears wetting his cheeks. The smile he curved on seeing her was the best ever in his life. He had come to standing and he paced towards the glass of water which had been kept aside for her. She smiled tearfully as he thrusted the glass on her hands for her to drink. She poured most of it to quench his thirst and then drank the rest with happiness resonating in her face. The glass of water retained had saved two lives instead of just one.


This post is a part of CBC's themed series: Thirsty thursday.


 Image 1: Internet
Image 2: Internet

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I'm too shallow to write a verse or two To make ends meet, I'm too cuckoo. I'm not the classic, scratching blue wooing 'em, tearing 'em apart  with every word.
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