The Boxes

I was so curious about the thin rectangular black box which my dadda carried with him every now and then. I noticed him with parted lips talking over it at times politely, sometimes harsh, and on the other times with so much love and happiness. I got confused recoking why is he chatting with a box and why is he feeling ire with it while it is always being silent! It was seen quite invariably. My mamma also had a box with an amber colour. Shortly afterwards, I came to a conviction that it's something very significant or some indispensable part of life. 

Later on, I clocked an opportunity to touch it with my bare hands. I felt it as heavy in my little hands despite of its thin appearance. Just like my parents, I held it with one hand and drew lines here and there with the tip of my tiny fingers. To my dismay, I saw variagated hues sparkling over it with a vibration. Suddenly my mama snatched it from my hands. I was heartbroken and started whining. My shrill voice pierced my own ears. In the interim, my mother pressed her lips on my cheeks and lilted something on my ears. I couldn't hear because of my shriek deafened my own little ears.

I never missed out any single chance to take it and almost all the efforts to grab it ended up as a pie in the sky. At last, the chance was right around the corner and I could take it without any remonstrations from my mother as she was on shower leaving  it on the couch. I was crawling as fast as I could. Yes! Only a few more inches to get it. With my shivering little feet, I grasped on the couch and in the interim, I tripped on something and stumbled down. But, I  somehow managed to take the box in the nick of time. I touched it with my little fingers! The colours started emanating from the box blinding my eyes. It was bewitching! I didn't know how long I used it. The more I used the more fascinated I was. 

Ah! My eyes are twitching and getting damp.

A hot wave of air hit on my face as my mother loomed before me with a scawl on her face. Ah! She gave a light spank on my back. I have seen many mothers giving the black boxes to their babies. Why not my mamma? I thought she liked the black box more than her kids. She placed another box like thing on my hands. It had many immovable colours unlike the black box with the pictures of animals and birds. But, I liked the other box! 

Days and months passed on a customary note. I started walking step by step and later on started scampering. Now I am a school going child and I fathom the fact that it's called a mobile phone and it's because my mother loved me more than anything else that she didn't give it to me. She could have sat on a couch watching television leaving me behind with an unused phone but she was reeling under the pressure of my shrill cries and grumpy days; never trying to resolve it or find comfort with help of a gadget. Even now she doesn't give the phone unless it is for study purposes. She never allows us to watch TV as well beyond a limit. Instead, she keeps story books on our palms one after the other as a matter of fact. It's because of her that I am great reader today. I write children's stories and poems too. I love my mom too  more than anything else in the world.