a raging storm

“Why did it happen?”
“When everything seemed alright, how did everything go wrong?”
“Why was one perspective so strong so as to bring my whole world crashing down?”
“When does a girl become mature?”
…
How long does one ask these questions? Why every repetition does seem to be the zillionth one? Why does it hurt so much?
The environment she grew up in was so full of love. A blend of love, trust and discipline. She grew up and started realizing a lot of things amiss. Her father was never there. It was always her mother who had pushed her forward. It was her mother who had filled her with the belief that she could dream and also make it come true. And somewhere in her heart she knew that if ever, things turned dire, her father would support her, protect her.
And then one day, the black clouds came. Lightening struck, thunder rang and she was enveloped in darkness. She was lost. Afraid. Her eyes searched, her heart called out. She saw her mother. She pleaded with her mother to help her. But there was an impenetrable barrier between them. She clutched her umbrella. Her mother stood afar, looking helplessly at her daughter.
Her defenses were melting.
Then her father came. The trust sprang up. She looked up at her father. She knew he would protect her. He would not let her get wet. He would not let her remain lost. He reached out…took her umbrella and went away. She heard her mother say… ”I have to accompany your father. But I know it must be cold. I am leaving my umbrella behind. If you penetrate this barrier, you can have my umbrella.”
The trust with which a toddler holds his father’s hand and takes the first step…vanished. Her heart broke. Suddenly her every belief seemed wrong. And she started questioning everything that she was. Over and over. Again and again.
It has been 13 months. It is still raining and she is still standing there. Lost.
Lost-In her questions, in her pain, in the storm…

“Tujhse naaraaz nahi zindagi hairaan hoon mai. Tere masoom sawaalon se pareshaan hoon mai”