A mother...

A mother  A mother...

Here's a short, touching story titled **"A Mother’s Light"**:

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### **A Mother’s Light**

In a quiet village nestled between misty hills, there lived a woman named Asha. She was a widow and the mother of a little boy named Kiran. Though their home was small and their meals simple, the love between them was vast and unshakable.

Every evening after working long hours at the village market, Asha would return home to find Kiran waiting by the window, eyes bright, hands waving. He’d run to her, arms outstretched, and she would lift him high, despite her aching back.

One night, during a heavy monsoon, the power went out. The entire village was swallowed in darkness. Kiran, only six, became frightened. The wind howled and the thunder shook the windows. He clung to Asha and whispered, “Mama, I’m scared.”

Asha held him close and said, “Don’t be afraid, my son. Even when the world goes dark, a mother becomes the light.”

She lit a small oil lamp, but its flame flickered and died in the wind sneaking through the cracks. Without a second thought, Asha took out a small match and lit a few dried twigs. She stayed awake the whole night, feeding the fire with scraps of old wood so that her child could sleep in its warmth and glow.

When morning came, the storm had passed. Kiran woke up smiling, still wrapped in warmth. “Mama,” he said, “you were right. There was light.”

Years later, Kiran became a successful engineer and returned to the village to build better homes and bring electricity to every house—including the one where he grew up. At the inauguration ceremony, he said:

> “All the light I bring today started with a match in my mother’s hands—and the fire in her heart.”

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