685 words
~

Two hard hands clung on my neck from behind as I was scratching the burnt milk utensil with full vigour -"Mom, I won." The 17 year old devil arrived in the house.
"Congratulations Ayan but first take off your shoes from my kitchen." I ordered.
He did not paid any heed to my command and eyed on the bowl of rasgullah. "It is delicious, mumma" he said, trying to swallow the full circle down his food pipe and sat up on the kitchen slab.
Sometimes I feel that my son will never grow up. Maybe because I have not been a tough mother or because he lacked father. I ponder about my past but dont I reside there. Feelings flicker and melt with time, just like a candle. This is what life has taught me over the years. There is no time for regrets because i have a herculean task to shape my son's future. To groom him from a mischivious young boy to a responsible gentleman.

I am Farha Ahmad, single parent of my only son, working as an english co-ordinator at modern school, hyderabad from past 20 years. Though the salary is mearge but I thank the management that provide free education to my son in that school. I feel lucky to own a house and its proper furnishing. I have promised my son to buy him a bike on his 18th birthday. He had been pestering me from last two years but because of my salary and his tender age I was reluctant to do so. He will graduate shortly and I am under pressure to give him gifts. One, for his bithday. Second for his graduation. Third for winning sports scholarship. He is my small world and I want him to be happy. His smile is my sole reason for survival. I love his presence and I can't think about myself without him.

"Mom, I met my namesake in the club today. He was the chiefguest. He was fascinated by my game and apart from the certificate he game me his card also." He said. Mounting off from the slab he took out the card from his back pocket and read out the name. "Ayan Khan, CEO of Kalyan company."
The utensils fell from my hands on the ground with a thud. I stood numb. Twice I had the flame lit in my heart when i heard his name. For once it was fire of desire but next it was the fire of despair.
My son bent down to pick the utensils. "Thank god these are made of steel. Hold them mom." He said lifting up the the plates. "Mom, are you all right. Mom, I am talking to you." He shouted, shaking me back to senses.
" I am ok. Arrange these plates, please." I said trying to be counterfiet normality though my heart and mind travelled back through time. "Ayan Khan" the name alone can spark thousand of pricking memories that were subdued over the years. My son bears the same name and it is my fault but atleast I have My title attached to it.

"Ayan Khan" my son repeated the name, determined to see my reaction once more. My eyes appealed him to stop chanting that name. " what is it, Mom? Do you know that person? Does he has any connection with my name? Tell me please." He pleaded.
My eyes were moist and tears trickled down my cheeks. My feet shook and I collapsed on floor. My son held me in his arms and made me comfortable on the chair in the drawing room.
"You want to hear the reason behind your name. Do have have patience?" I warned him.
"Yes, start from the beginning. I dont want to miss anything." A mixture of exitement and curiosity in his words.
"I dont know the beginning,son." I said wiping my tears and placing my hand on his hair as he sat down near my feet. "Start from where ever you want." He said hurriedly.

"Ok, so here is the story... when I was 21......" I began
~