'I hope that you have done writing report, have you?', said a man wearing clean blue suit with a black tie paired with black shiny shoes. "Yes I have just done sir..r" replied a young man with hair touching up his nose with some strands struggling among themselves. 'Good Ron', the man answered and walked away making a formal sound with his shoe which first echoed and then got dissolved in the walls.  Ron somehow looked so exhausted. His mind refused to make up any more reports now, and his trembling fingers showed their exhaustion by turning to red. No sooner, his mind got lost in thoughts which were senseless but somehow were important to his life. The report he wrote was still bright in his laptop. Subject was typed in broad letters which looked as though they would jump of the screen. By seeing the title he whispered in his very deep voice, "Again a report that declares their failure giving them nothing but disappointment", as soon as he uttered these words a thick silence went round the room and everybody stood up. A man in white shirt with stiff sleeves turned up on door. Ron, shutting down his laptop stood up with a serious expression but still moving a little to make up all. The man on the door took no more minute and he started on by spitting out some words. Those were, ' you all know it very well that this year we again made a failure. But for me this failure of not getting costumers for our product is a bit more disappointing. As you all know the manager of this company is tired of making the same magazine again and again and so he decided to take one last try with this and so I request you all to make your best design and look for best articles so that we can make this try a hit and I expect your articles by Saturday. This was followed by a sudden yet furious move by the staff and everybody including Ron hurtled back to their desks. This was not a new speech for Ron. Though he was on his office desk, in his mind he was there with his mother exchanging respect with love. This was common for Ron as he could visit her only once in a year. Ron could never let his mother go off his head. Reason was not that he was desperate but that her mother could not let Ron go off her head. And the output came out this, Ron taking himself virtually to his mother every time he is on his chair.
Although he was on his business of writing articles and reports for a company, he could also manage writing for people of his village such as a letter or sometimes even obituary. It was Sunday, and Ron half tired, half fresh made up his steps to his table and started writing some unknown Emotional words. Format declared that it was a letter and subject announced that it was for his mother. It was his fun to write and pen down his feelings every Sunday that his mother would store in her heart forever. So he wrote:
To dear Mom,
I know you will receive this letter on Thursday. The weather here is very calm. I hope you are fine. I am here as usual struggling for an article that could catch attention of readers but you know, could not find one. I really can't cooperate with these people anymore. They are making my day so tough which pulls me to a place I don't belong to. But still I am always with you in my mind and you would always give me satisfaction which is so soothing though it is imaginary. I hope you would see me soon there. It is two months more and I will wait for my arrival there. Bye take care.
Your son
Ron
And then Ron dropped his pen back to Pen case and went ahead to do his routine work. Days passed, and one could find Ron struggling for a perfect article. Ron would always receive a reply of his letter from his mother every Saturday that would give him inner blisses for writing the next one.
It was Friday night and Ron ready and curious for the reply slept with dreams that showed up him his mother. Ron marked Saturday on the calendar and ready for the office he waited in his desk still with a some uneasiness of not finding a perfect article. Saturday! Ron jumped off his desk. Some words of that formal man with white shirt who showed up that day flashed up in his mind. 'I want your articles by Saturday and I expect best'.
Ron was with nothing except some excitement for the reply. Excuses for not finding one started to walk in his mind. In this unmanageable situation there came a knock on the Door. Postman with some bright letters peeping out of his bag was standing there with one for Ron. Ron unfolded it and read:
To my son
Ron,
I hope this letter finds you healthy and happy. I know that you are too frustrated these days. I am even not unknown of the fact that you need some soothing. I hope that this letter will give you strength to do your work ahead. My child, just peep in your heart once and you will see that you can do everything. Don't give up. It's your life, live with strength and cheerfulness. Days will appear dark to you but wait it's your duty not to run for light but wait for the light.  Whatever your hurdle is you will find a way. Don't just walk with crowd stay away and let everyone know that you are best.
Take care.
With love,
Mom.
Ron lifted his head up with a smile folded it up again, made it slid through an envelope, scribbled something on it and headed out for office.
Office seemed somehow unusual that day. People walking in and out, movements that declared anxiety and a atmosphere which looked positive. The man appeared instructing the staff to drop down their articles in a box which was painted grey. In an hour the box was full with one bright letter which seemed as though it would come out of box anytime. On it was written:
Title of the article: Most precious words by a Mother
By, Ron.