My Name

“My Name” 

In English my name means nothing. But in Sanskrit it means luxury. Fame. Success. It means a place that can’t be achieved. A lonely dream. It is the vase that no one use, only see. It is the food that everyone looks at, but no one touches. It is a destination like the haven but in the truth, it is the cold, blooded misery. Greed thrives upon my name. If look close enough, you will see no peace. That is my name. An invisible warfare. People running toward my name, but it just keeps on running faster. No one in my family has ever been named Yash. Well, at least not that I can think of. An old sage gave the first two letter of my black name. My family came up with the last two. But in all sense, it is unique. Not a lot of people have my name. At the same time not a lot of people have luxury or fame or success. All they see is a golden ray of shine filing the whole room with the name Yash. But what I see the poison, hang on to everybody, creating chaos. Yes, that is my name, chaos.   

Snow

Snow

The harsh, cold wind rattled the door. The gentle sun shined on the cold, frozen rooftops. Tiny little crystals of water came falling, sparkling in front of the snow. Cries of pure joy rang throughout the house. Little children tossed little balls of snow to their friends. Dogs playfully tackling each other in the soft snow like a fluffy pillow.  

My hands pressed against the frosted window. The frost slowly cracked as did my heart when I heard the word “no.” My heart stopped beating. Time froze. The entire house went silent. I stayed in front of the hazy, frozen window seeking out for joy, but none came. It felt like someone took away my soul away from me. And that someone was my mother. I pleaded and begged to go outside just this once. But fate decided to torture me. Torment me. To tear me apart. I looked outside and grimaced at the children and animals having happiness, pleasure, and joy. For I could not join them in this very rare and special moment.  

“No Yash, you will get sick because you are not used to this kind of weather,” explained my mom.  

“But there are younger kids then me playing outside,” I mumbled. 

“They will get sick too. Just you watch,” said my mom in a firm voice. And that ended the conversation. There was no hope of going outside and playing with the slushy snow. I sympathized with Demeter. The sadness. The pain. The anger. The defeat. All I could do was watch the other kids play in the white outside world. For I am trapped within the four walls of my very own home. Concealed within the darkness. Hidden from the light. Invisible to the rest of the world.  

Astonishingly, a child wearing blue navy coat with a black wooly jean coughed and wiped his nose. And in a distance, I saw my friend wiping his nose with a tissue paper and being dragged away by his mother. I was amazed on how accurate my mother was. Then I sniffed something warm, juicy, and spicy coming from the kitchen. A huge bowl of Maggie noodles was set in front of me. The steam from the bowl made my whole face warm. The goopy soup sticking to the noodle strands made me anticipate a burst of spices and flavor. I took a bite and all the sadness, and pain melted away like an ice cube. It warmed me from the inside. I forgot all about the snow and focused on how caring my mother had been. Not only had she warned me of silky, sick snow but, also made Maggie to give warmth and the same happiness that I would have had experienced in the snow. Sometimes, people say things that might be hurtful but, only to keep you warm and safe form the dangers of the outside world.