Mother's Burden

This post has been published by me as a part of the Blog-a-Ton 23; the twenty-third edition of the online marathon of Bloggers; where we decide and we write. To be part of the next edition, visit and start following Blog-a-Ton. The theme for this month is FREE.

'Gaia Angel'

The soft blades of the long grown grass brushed against her ankles as she walked in the meadows that she owned. She lived here. She loved this world that she made. Hopping lightly on the sodden bed of grass and leaves, the little girl could not have been more delighted at the wonders of her creation. She smiled and thought to herself about what a wonderful world it was, as she threw herself down on a sunlit patch and lay there until the world grew dark.

A long time passed as she lay there thinking. She was too alone. She needed somebody to look after. She needed something to nurture. She called out to her own and one by one, they came. The creatures came when the sun rose. Monstrosities and adorable ones, alike. She loved them all. They were hers. But not too long did they last. As she grew, she realized her folly. She grew sense and a great ball of fire crashed into those meadows all around her. The forests were ablaze. Her pets, as she saw them, perished. They did not deserve to carry on. They were too barbaric. But some survived. The less monstrous. The more human.

She grew with her world and the world aged with her. Mornings came and went and she kept thinking and calling out. She created as she saw fit. But now she knew. She understood that a balance was always necessary.

She called out to the misfits. They would be her supreme creation. They looked like her but they had not her power. She was wise now.

Gaia strolled along the riverside as she saw her new children rising to power. They grew in number. She was scared of how they treated each other sometimes. But she waited. She had made them capable of thought. They would realise. Some even did.

As the clouds of darkness enveloped her world, a fierce man with a small moustache wreaked havoc. Millions died. Gaia could only cry out in vain as the deaths would carry on. The little girl who used to walk in the endless fields had died. She was now a woman, saddened by what her children were doing. They had no thought about their mother. They had no thought about their brothers or their sisters. The seas rose as Gaia wept every night. Every night her children fought with each other. But she decided to wait. For a little bald man in a loin cloth made her believe that they weren't resistive to being good. They were ready to accept their own. They were not bad children. They were just misguided. They did not have her wisdom. They were children, after all.

She watched as they mutilated her world. The blades of grass she used to walk on now had to be preserved. Gaia wept incessantly and the waters of the world kept rising. Her children had not the capability to learn. History of millenia ago repeated itself over and over again as the lady watched, the little girl in her upset beyond measure. The waters kept rising.

The sun rose on a new day. A day for new beginnings, as it could be said. The world grew heavy with her mother's tears creating waves in it. The old woman was weary. She needed to rest. She had been aggrieved too long. She needed to be free. She was almost heartless as she watched her world collapsing, her children swaying tumultuously in it. Gaia watched as she thought of a new world. She waited for it to end so she could create again.

The little girl in her would wish again. She would call out to her own once more. It was not the end. But as she watched her icy world being created anew, with a smile of relief that was reflected by the stars, Gaia realized that she was wiser. She knew now what to do. She was free. Gaia was free from her own folly and her own burdens.

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Happy Independence Day !