“Aarav, how could you bear to leave me…”

That afternoon, Lucknow was gray, the summer wind blew wildly through the winding alleys. The neem trees rustled, and red dust flew up the village road. I had just brought a basket of vegetables from the market when my son, Aarav, trotted out the door, his round eyes shining brightly, smiling innocently:

— “Mom, I’m going to Rahul’s house to play for a while and then come back for dinner!”

I patted his head and told him:
— “It’s okay to go, but remember to come back early, okay? It’s almost dark.”

Aarav nodded, his mouth chirping like a baby bird. I watched the little figure disappear at the end of the dirt alley, still telling myself: “Just a little while, he’ll come back for dinner with us.”

The wait seemed endless

However, when the sun set behind the old roof tiles, when the bell from the Hanuman temple rang to announce the evening, there was still no sign of my child. The meal was cold, the smell of the bean curry faded, I sat waiting, my eyes glued to the half-closed wooden door.

— “Aarav, where are you going?”

Night fell, the whole village gradually turned off the lights, only the moonlight shone through the windows. I began to panic. I ran to the end of the lane, calling until my voice was hoarse. The neighbors heard the sound and came out to help: some asked, some turned on the lights, went all over the rice fields, all over the dry ditch.

I didn’t sleep all night. My legs were weak, my voice was hoarse, but there was no sign of my child. A vague fear crept into my heart: “What if… something happens?”

Horrifying discovery

The next afternoon, my husband – Sanjay – ran home in a panic. His face was pale as if he had lost his soul. Panting and stuttering,

— “At… the edge of the pond in the field… there was an old sack… covered with flies…”

A strong premonition made my heart stop. Sanjay trembled as he told me, he approached, opened the sack and immediately collapsed.

The people of Baksar village heard the news and immediately came. Everyone surrounded the pond, the sound of chatter, the sound of children crying out in fear. I rushed forward, my legs as if I had lost all feeling.

Inside the sack… was the small, purple body of Aarav – the innocent boy who had been chirping beside me just yesterday. The smell of death rushed straight to my brain. I screamed, tears pouring down like rain:

— “Oh God… Aarav… my son… how could you treat him like this…”

An atmosphere of mourning

The bad news spread throughout the village like fire. Women covered their faces and sobbed, men shook their heads, mumbling prayers. The whole village, which was once peaceful, was suddenly plunged into grief.

I sat down on the ground, my hands clutching the hem of my sari, my eyes wild. The neighbors helped me up, but my legs were too weak. I could only call out my son’s name in despair:

— “Aarav… you were only 8 years old… you hadn’t even grown up yet… Why did you leave me like this…”

People placed my son’s body on a bamboo stretcher, covered with a white cloth. The sound of the funeral drum from the village temple resounded, tearing the space apart. Yellow chrysanthemum wreaths fell, blending with my heartbreaking cries.

A mother’s pain

I clearly remember yesterday, that innocent smile, that clear voice, that small hand holding mine. It had only been one day, and the whole world had collapsed.

People consoled me: “You have to persevere, life is long.” But for me, every hour, every minute was hell. The void Aarav left behind could not be filled.

At night, I sat in front of the porch, looking at the flickering oil lamp, listening to the crickets chirping in the quiet night. I was absent-minded, my eyes were dry with tears. In my heart, there was only one question: “Why is fate so cruel to an innocent child?”

Conclusion

I never thought in my life that one day I would have to find my child in such a tragic situation. The mother’s heart was dead, only able to whisper in the wind:

— “Aarav… you are far away, rest in peace. I will carry this pain for the rest of my life.”

That day, the sky of Baksar was dyed a desolate red. The peaceful Indian countryside was now immersed in tears. And from that moment, I knew that my life would forever be incomplete.