Can a life of luxury yield pain? Quite often this thought disturbed me, yet I remained without an answer for many years. It took me long to realise that life’s lessons can really be tough for someone who has never been bitten by the harsh sting of necessity and grief.
I was 12 then. Though...
<p>Can a life of luxury yield pain? Quite often this thought disturbed me, yet I remained without an answer for many years. It took me long to realise that life’s lessons can really be tough for someone who has never been bitten by the harsh sting of necessity and grief.</p>
<p>I was 12 then. Though I was typically playful and lively, at times I could be savagely short-tempered and on numerous occasions it was my mother who had to suffer the outcomes of my fury.</p>
<p>The early morning rays had already raised their brilliant heads above the vast stretch of horizon and the singing birds filled the morning sky with their praise and prayers. Joggers were out and the tea-sellers had begun their daily business. Warm sunlight had shrouded the cold night in such peace and serenity that only the grumpiest person could deny its pleasurable glow.</p>
<p>Alas! I was one of them.</p>
<p>I was still fuming from an earlier altercation with my mother. All my honest and eager requests to go on a camping trip with my friends were mercilessly rejected since she feared that I was still too young to take care of myself. “But, Mom, I’m 12 now! All my friends are going and there will be elders, too,” had been my argument. The battle of ideologies between me and my mother had intensified overnight and presently I was sitting at the window as dull, silent, and motionless as the wall clock which no one ever bothered to repair.</p>
<p>Resting there, I imagined my friends enjoying their time around the bonfire, singing and narrating tales of adventure while this unlucky boy crushed under his mother’s ironclad decision wonders if he will ever become independent. So low was my mood that even the ecstatic beauty of nature had started to irritate and trouble me. I wished every bit of good I saw to be as ruined as I felt.</p>
<p>At 9 o’clock, my mother came in with the breakfast. I looked up at her in disapproval and then coldly turned my face away. She sat beside me and, totally ignoring my bad attitude, brushed her hand over my head. I said nothing, nor did she. Then, with her own hands, she tried to feed me.</p>
<p>I pushed her hand away in an instant and ran out of the room. I still cannot make out what put such a crazy plan into my head, but I decided right then to run away. Behind me, I could hear my mother’s quick-paced footsteps and her soft, high-pitched voice calling out my name. I outran her and soon found myself...