Oblivion of Truth

I could see him. He appeared pensive whilst I tried to construe the silence between us. His eyes were gleaming when he looked right into mine as if he was able to see past through me. I could feel the presence of people around me as if there was one big occasion but this could have been just a figment of my imagination as all I could see and recognize were his beautiful and inquisitive eyes. He was holding me like I was a newborn child. I have always enamored the way he has looked at me. This look, the one which made me fall in love with him the first time I saw him when he came to our door-step wearing his damp shoes, with snowflakes kissing his socks. He stood at the threshold with the same gleaming eyes and wearing a smile so beautiful that I didn’t recognize he was a stranger who had just moved into our neighbourhood. He wore the same look when I gave him a peck on his cheeks for the first time under the chinar tree which was dressed in blanket of snow; the look he had when we used to make love; the look he had when he held our son while I lay right beside him on the hospital bed, drained of all energy after going through the labor but invigorated by the touch of his lips on my cheeks. But today, it was something different. He looked anxious and his eyes seemed wet.

il_570xN.579370548_3qjaI mustered strength and asked, “Why are your eyes wet? Is there anything that you want to tell me? Why are you looking at the ceiling when I’m asking you questions? Now you are making me angry. You know how much I hate when you try to fool me around. Oh! now I understand. You are worried because winter has set in and it might snow any day from now while we still haven’t got our roof fixed. Yes, I know last year our neighbours roof caved in under the weight of snow. Its’ all going to be ok. Oh! you want me to stay with you, is that a question? Of course! I’m not going anywhere. We’ve known each other from days when we used to build snowman right outside my house. Oh! C’mon now stop crying. You are making me nervous. You ask me if I remember the days we spent in each others company? Are you trying to distract me? Of course! Every detail of those moments is engraved in my conscience.

I remember the brief walk we used to take around the lake when the sun was just about sink behind those snow capped himalayan mountains as if it were playing hide-n-seek with its other planetary companions. Both the animate and inanimate objects of the universe would start mocking at our ignorance of the feeling hidden inside us. Fireflies, like thousands of burning dots in the shadow of the thicket of deodar trees in the distant would dance to the tune of music composed by camaraderie of rustling leaves, crickets in their secret hides, and cracking of dry twigs under our weight. Smoke emanating through chimneys of the houseboats like a menacing viper sparing its hunt for a day would too get engulfed in the madness. We would walk down the road in silence, only to be broken by faint and distant buzzing of a bee or flapping of wings of chukar zooming above our heads. Some days we would frolic the very same roads as if we were reliving the child within us and some days we would simply cherish the blessing of us being together. I know you could hear the sound of my heartbeat and see the bead of sweat sliding down behind my ears when your fingers were locked in mine. 

BMduUGzCIAA30uvI don’t know why but I feel like holding on to you as if everything around us will be sucked into nothingness except you and me. As if the mountains that saw us spend our childhood, adolescent years, and married life will cave in under the weight of snow. As if there will be no pain, no sorrow, no happiness, no joy in the world. As if the gods have grown tired and will drop the strings attached to us. I long to be with you and freeze this moment as if there will be no breath of life in this universe ever again. I feel like a heavy burden has lifted off my chest. Look! The sun is covering us under its golden blanket as if it were putting up one last fight against the onset of winter. I sense your fingers interlocked with mine. But why is it that I cannot feel the touch of your skin? I feel cold.

goodwp.com_25842What? Speak a bit louder as your speech is getting inaudible. I’m not able to hear you though I can see your lips moving. I am concentrating on the redness of your lips whom I’ve caressed umpteen times and want to feel them again on me but there is something stopping me from touching it. The presence of people in the room is getting stronger. The sound of silence is deafening me. I’m really afraid now please tell me what is going on? I am trying hard make out the human shadows of various sizes crawling on the floor but I can see no one. I can hear the faint and distant cry of our child and call of my Ma but I can see none of them. There are feeble noises that I’m unable to distinguish. They sound ghastly. I am scared. Please make these people go away. Hold me tightly and never let go of me. I just want to be with you. I see that the sun has finally lost its battle against the winter clouds and it seems that we have the first snow of the season. Please, stop crying! Yes, I’ll always love you too and I’m there for you. Hold me and never let me go. I’ll be with you in this life and the next. I’ve closed my eyes now and want to sleep in your arms.

The Trail

DSC00638Everything zooming past me was just a blur of spectrum of colors. Green Pine and Deodar trees, white snow capped mountains, blue waters of river Beas, brown fertile Himalayan soil and gray smoke rising from the chimneys of shacks in the vicinity. Catching up my breath and resting my burning feet on the paddle of my bike I could feel the presence of my other mates riding far behind me. I don’t know what was driving me to get past all of them. I was not in a race. There was no incentive to reach the milestone first. No prize. No levels. Nor was I challenged to prove my mettle. No accolades whatsoever. It was just the thrill of speed. The joy of being free from shackles of figments of human imagination. There was no friend, no foe; no love, no hatred; no joy, no sorrow but the ethereal feeling of being just you and the nature with nothing in between.


After kilometers of uphill biking it really was exhilarating to let my legs rest on the paddles, maintain the posture, remain seated and gripped on my seat while the downhill gradient took care of the rest. Right at that moment all problems of life, thoughts of people, notions of Utopian world seeped down to the core of my body. The only thing that occupied my mind then was the beauty of the Himalayas. She was -in fact will always be- perfect. She’s been the enchantress not just for me but for every human eyes that has ever fall upon her. Not just the exotic vegetation that is born off the lap of this great mountain range but the mountains itself is a medication for a wretched human soul.

Situated in the Kullu valley, Manali is exactly the place that would steal your mind with her beauty, her simplicity, and her closeness to nature. I remember the very first sight of mighty Beas whose monstrous waves hit the congregation of boulders in its way while making its way to meet Sutlej. The moment I entered the valley it felt like my school drawings of river flowing through and sun rising behind the mountains had been breathed with life. The locals travelling with me in HRTC bus from Delhi to Manali exuded so much positiveness towards life that seemed to be missing in people living in cities. I don’t mean that we don’t have such positiveness in our life. Its just that we seem to loose all the wonders and gifts every new sunrise bestows us. For that I would blame our mundane routine and race to make our future better – not just for us but for every individual for whom we care.

DSC00924For me it was not just a random trip to escape my routine, or the realities of life. I embarked on this expedition to get away from the thoughts of loneliness that clouded my mind by the absence of someone whom I missed. It had been almost 2 weeks since I heard from her. I don’t know if this is normal for everyone else out there. Of course it should be. I’m not the one who is smitten by this bug. May be everyone in their life have been through this. No fret. But I find myself lucky to have tread this trail. In fact not just me, but all other mates who were with me on this trip must have some or the other reasons for joining this YHAI trek of Manali Biking Expedition.

Me in the distant

That’s me spoiling the pic ;)

I remember the full moon night of November when I arrived in this town and took a stroll to the Mall Road, the market place of Manali. College students, young honeymooners, school children and some adventure-seeking-foreigners populated the area. Delicious road side chat, mouth watering tandoor, and some really beautiful girls from North India caught our sight. We were asked to jog and exercise -something I hadn’t done in years- in chilly mornings to acclimatize ourselves. Later through the fumes of freshly brewed tea we could feel the light morning air of the valley that made us feel as fresh as a daisy. 

That's my ride in the picture

That’s my ride

Sounds of the forest brought me back to the time when I could still feel the air hitting me while I rode back to the hostel. I tried real hard to make myself memorize the ecstatic feeling I was having then. The feeling of being free. Feeling of going wherever I wanted, doing whatever I felt was right, talking to anyone whom I felt like talking, and keeping mum without answering anyone why I wasn’t uttering a word was quite cathartic for me. But even then I feared my mind would get clouded by thoughts of ‘her’ as soon as I’ll leave this town. I believe that is in fact the beauty of separation. You get to know the importance of people once you go away from them. Many a times we question own-self why is it that people around us don’t understand our situation and why don’t they conform to our wishes. But the fact remains that we are, on the contrary, unclear of what are our desires and wants. When do we want space and when do we want care & affection? When do we want to be independent and when do we seek support? When do we desire to be left alone and when do we long for someone’s company? Well! It’s better to keep some questions unanswered because that is the beauty of walking the trail of life.

Last Day of the expedition

Last Day of the expedition

Here are some pictures clicked by me during the trip. Please avoid using the pictures for commercial purpose. I hope you’ll like them. :) For information about YHAI, check out http://www.yhaindia.org It’s a really well organized trek and worth being a member of YHAI. I’m not paid by YHAI, just FYI ;).

The Stroll

RainwalkI don’t know how much sand had fallen in sand-glass since we were cursed by Harpocrates. We walked without uttering a word. It was like the blanket of silence was what we both were secretly wishing this moment. Topic of feelings, relationship, society, future, love had always been the recipe of deep contemplation for both of us. Neither of us could make out right from wrong. If given an opportunity I would definitely trade anything just to get a sneak peek into future to know if things between us are meant to be this way or is it that we are just different from people who are in love. Love? I guess even that is a far fetched conjecture as neither of us are sure if what we are feeling today is going to stay like this in future. We all tend to assume that the way we feel today is how we are going to feel tomorrow. And that is the thing I’m most afraid of.

We continued our usual evening stroll. It has been almost 15 months since we have known each other. We have walked together this same street for umpteen times but still we feel that there is lot to know about each other. We have heard people around us say that we are dating each other. Maybe they are correct or may be they are wrong. I don’t have an answer to that . We are definitely not just friends but neither are we committed. The only fact that matters to us is that we like each others company. Do I fear separation? Yes! Never before I met her had I felt this way. I have been always this guy carrying a strong image of myself who most people Laughassociate with arrogant and high-handedness. Even today few of my acquaintances don’t believe their eyes when they see me even laugh. She on the other hand has seen me in all spectrum of moods I can possibly wear. She is the one whom I can approach to share my happiness, troubles, issues.

Apart from being a beautiful and a lovely human she is very mature of her age. It was today that I finally confessed to her that I have fallen for her. I’ve fallen for her charm, her grace, and her innocence. And never in my life I have been more convinced but today that I really don’t understand what all it takes for a girl to really love you back. Every word of her was as if was coming from a woman who has all the wisdom a human can possibly possess. She was afraid if I would not continue feel for her the same way I feel today. Years from now would I not consider myself confined in a relationship if I realize that I had made haste in confessing my feelings? Would it not be injustice to both of our parents of snatching the power of making the most important decision for both of us? Would it not be like assuming that the way we feel today will exactly be the way we’ll feel tomorrow? Might it not happen that if we hit a rough patch in our relationship we would think of ‘what-if’ situation? There some are questions that can never be answered by a mortal soul. If such questions could be answered when we desired then why would it ever happen that people go through the painful process of breaking-up.

CaptureIf I so much want to be with her then why don’t I convince her that things will never change between us and I will always feel for her. I guess telling her this should be good enough for her to believe me, and accept the fact that I’ll never let go of her. But trust me, one can convince someone about what you feel but one can never make some ‘feel’ for you like the way you feel. It is like keeping your faith in that invisible being you call God that if what you feel is true and strong, then some day or the other she’ll feel the same. Agreed, that this ”someday” may never come or when it comes it would be too late. I guess that is why we have the word ‘destiny’.

I’ve lived a very beautiful part of my life with her which has been a gift. A gift of memories. Memories that cannot be taken away from me but I fear that it might get corroded as times goes by. But I’ll know that there was a girl whom I loved. I don’t want us to be just memory but the fear of loosing her keeps bubbling up in my conscience. I guess that maybe everyone who has ever loved anyone will always feel this way during initial stages of their relationship. Maybe we both are also just another set of couple who have strong feelings for each other today, but are not certain if things will stay with us this way forever.

Diamant_E_0691-EditFinally breaking the long hiatus of awkward silence she inquired with her honey dew voice, “Buddhi ji, did you say something?” She looked up to decipher my expressions and make out if I was alright. Even after meeting her umpteen times her eyes have always been one thing that makes me desirous of making her stay with me forever. But today there was something different about her. There was a strong glow on her face. It was as if she had grown old. But her smile, the smile that has always made me feel joyous, was still the same. I moved my hand away from my body to twirl the strands of hair falling on her face when I saw my hands clothed in transparent skin like that of an old man. Baffled, I heard the same honey dew voice again. This time more close to me like she was almost near my ears. My eyes were wide open now and I saw the same perfect smile she carried 60 years back when I met her for the first time. I looked straight in her twinkling and inquisitive hazel eyes that I always longed for. “Buddhi ji, what happened,” she inquired anxiously and all I did was kissed her forehead and said, ‘Happy Valentines Day’.


Standing @ Crossroads

WritingI have tried my best to go up to her and ask her what has changed between us. Why have we become stranger to each other? Why things are not the way they used to be months back? I don’t remember since when I started avoiding her glare. Was it a conscious effort or something that came down so natural to me? I never realized until today that I was so feeble and meek of heart. I can’t look into her eyes anymore. Those beautiful and captivating eyes, that even today bore down deep into my psyche, had made me once realize that I had something in me. Something that I never knew ever existed in my mortal body. Something latent. I don’t know if it was something special, but at least people around me used to say that it was indeed. They used to say that it was because of her that I grew up to become a changed person. I doubt that. Maybe I was always like this. It was just that I never realized until we crossed roads. But today, after almost a year, I can’t face her. The way she looks at me today somehow makes me realize how selfish I have become, or maybe I always was.

I guess this is how we traverse life as a mortal being. We only consider what is good for us and what makes us happy. We never – at least not always- realize what impact our words or action would have on someone who loves us. Or to someone for whom we hold importance. We talk to someone we feel like talking. But what good it is for the other person when we are not there to listen to them when they feel the same? One moment we can’t live without hearing ones voice but the next moment we realize that every feeling that we had earlier with that one person is all of a sudden erased, as it never existed. No matter how hard we try to feel the same way we used to feel earlier turns out a futile exercise. The moments that we had lived once simply become memories that are now merely the relics of the past. Memories that will remain forever. Memories that will surface only by some weird incident or, only if we willingly want them to bubble up from the abyss of our conscience.

Writing Having lived this life as a selfish and self-centered human, I have become a part of memories of many people. This has led me to become more apprehensive of the fact that I might also end up being just one character of someones else’s memories. I don’t say that it is a bad thing. I will be more than happy to be a reason behind someone’s smile, but what if I am the cause of misery. That would not be good. She is a part of many of my memories. When I was with her I was sure that she will be with me forever. As if I owned her. She never complained. She was with me for every moment I needed her support. My friends said that I was only lucky chap that I had her.

I don’t actually know what made me leave her. In fact, I never actually did. She was always near me but somehow we became distant. Or maybe, I distanced myself from her.  There was never a conscious effort behind doing so, but somehow there came another being between us. People believe that if you truly love someone then you would never fall for someone else. But I did. I fell for this beautiful and happiest being I ever met. She was full of energy. Energy that is bound to be left unbounded. She somehow brought so much happiness to all living/non livings things that her shadow fell upon. She has never really accepted me but has always made me feel special. I won’t say that she loves me because that is the truth. But I guess we all are stranded at one point in life that makes us realize that it is better to live and enjoy the moment than spoil everything by making things the way we want them to be. But, being with her who I’m sure- or at least there is a good chance- might not love me back really makes me feel miserable. I am agonized by mere notion of not having her by my side the next morning I wake up. I always wish that such thing never happen. Not all wishes are bound to be true, isn’t it? As of now I am content and glad that I came to know her, and she is still with me.

Guitar and MeToday, however, there is something different. There is heavy air that engulfs me. Somehow I am not enjoying whatever I’m doing. The one whom I love today is with me but still there is a big void within me. I feel that I’ve been cruel and ignorant to my first love. Today I realized that I had actually ‘left’ her. She has always been with me. The fact remains: I miss my first love. I don’t know if we all have to make choices or is it just me who is foolish to have aggravated the situation. Since many days I’ve been discovering a lot about me as a human. I try to be someone who I’m not what I say to be. I might appear to be strong, confident and unbending to the choices that I make. I might seem to be someone who never vacillates. That’s not at all true. I have my share of fallibility. Many a times I also wish how different my life would have been if I had selected the thing that I rejected and not the one that I have accepted. I stand at such a cross-road that it might appear that I’ve to make a choice. It’s not difficult for me to select either of them because my first love, my blog and second love, my guitar, are happy to be with me and I will ensure to keep to give my undistracted attention to both.

The Messenger

Their eyes pierced deep into me as if they were seeking some real help from me. I don’t know why they consider me worthy enough to get a sneak-peek into their hearts and know their feelings for each other without shying away from the most uncomfortable one. Maybe it is because I can keep secrets. Or maybe because I can somehow help them come out- to some extent- of this feeling of unease. Or maybe because all that they want is someone who can just listen to them without judging their character on basis of what they feel. What ever may be the reason, the fact remains: I am the only one with whom they have shared what they feel for each other. But I have made it evident on numerous occasions that I am very bad at handling matters calling for understanding emotions. That is the reason why always my only reaction to their unbroken gaze is to look back at them and give appropriate expressions-which I seriously doubt they understand- so that they would know that I’m listening with rapt attention. In spite of us being childhood friends, I believe that it is not any real advice or help they are looking for. Instead all they want is someone to listen to, to talk to, and to find solace when their inner turbulence is unbearable.

As a friend I’m concerned for both of them. On one side there is he, who has kept his love for her still a secret only because he doesn’t want to lose out on the sweet moments with her if she doesn’t accept his love. It is not that he has never tried confronting her and making her aware of the tornado whirling within him. But whenever he has approached her he has become conscious of her beautiful smile, her cascade-of-flowing-water-like black hair, her impenetrable and majestic aura, and of her honey-dew voice. The moment she says ‘hi’ to him he forgets the purpose for which he had approached her and would start blabbering all worldly nonsense. The only reason that I am more inclined to listen to him and eager to know what he feels is because I know that she is the only one he has ever loved. I believe that the real reason he has yet not revealed his love to her is because he still has not understood if she is the one he is looking for. Is it just infatuation or true love? Or is it normal for people in love to feel this way? I believe that there is no mortal soul who can answer these questions.

On the other side there is she, who also loves him but has her reasons not to reveal it to him. She has heard stories of people who have never been able to achieve what they desired in life just because they digressed from their goal because of this ridiculous-yet-lovely feeling. Like him, she too doubts if it is love. Being the only child of her parents she has a responsibility of realizing the dreams that they have woven for her. Yet, the main problem is that she doubts whether he is the person with whom her destiny is written and with whom she would live her entire life? Will he continue to love her with same feeling with which he does today? Will she be able to gel with people from his social circle as they both belong to a different caste and a different state? How can she be sure that he does not turn out to be of the ‘other-lot’? What would become of her if she comes to know after 9-10 years down the line that their relation isn’t working? She has asked me these questions when she should have asked him.

I have always tried that I never give my opinion about what is right and what is wrong, nor have I suggested what should be done and what should be avoided, as I’m sure that it will definitely be flushed down the drain. In the end, people in love always end up doing what they feel like doing. But tell me! How can you seek answers if they are based on future actions? One should at least give it a shot so that one can know more about the other person. Love can only happen if one let’s go of his fear of the worst and anticipate the best.

Since time immortal I have always come to cognizance that being in love is a state very difficult to explain in words. It is wonderful and lovely one moment, ugly and stupid the other. It is not that I have something personal against it or that I have suffered it myself. It is because I have known billions of similar people looking up to me and sharing similar feelings. And all that I have been able do is to listen to them and provide them a reflection of their lovers face who is either not with them physically or who has crossed the river of life and is now awaiting for his/her arrival on the other side of the cycle of life. I have lived my entire life in isolation, trapped inside this deserted silvery-white body, suspended in ether. I don’t have a name for myself but the animate objects populating the once-exotic-now-banal blue-green planet in front of my eyes call me moon.

A thankless yet thankful Job

Looking at the dark gray clouds extending to the horizon it was difficult for her to say whether it was seven in the morning or seven in the evening. It had just been 15 mins since the students had started entering the school premises and forming groups in the main foyer for the morning payers. She, however, did not feel like joining them but rather wanted to stay by her cabin window at the 4th floor of the building. She wanted to take in the fresh morning air accompanied by the cold-sweet breeze coming from the direction of the school playground which was clear sign that it had rained somewhere in the vicinity. Though she was in her 50’s she still felt child at heart when she saw the signs of arrival of the first monsoon. She had always loved the sight of the world engulfed in blanket of water falling from the sky. She reminisced the way she used to make paper boats and place them in the rivulets formed in front of her porch. With her mother sitting by the entrance of the house and her father standing right behind her, she delighted on the sight of her craft moving like an invincible rover overcoming the obstacles, like twigs and leaves, in its way. But such wonderful moments always used to end with a sullen feeling. She piqued at the sight of her paper boat meeting a sad end. All the happy feelings of delight and joy ended in feelings of glum. Same were the feelings she was having right at this moment.

The day she had joined the teaching profession, she was ecstatic.  Ecstatic because she was living her dream. Dream of imparting the knowledge she had gained as a student herself and dream of sharing values she possessed as a human to her students. But, little did she know that many years later she would start doubting the correctness of her decision. Her father was her role model who had taught her the importance of ‘patience, perseverance, and compassion’. But she doubts if her students know what such things are. She wonders if they value the effort she is making day in and day out for them to learn the realities of life. For one thing, however, she is very positive: She loves all her students and has their best interest in mind. But, it’s just the way they talk to her, behave in class, take her instructions lightly and fail to meet deadlines that makes her feel so… small. Sometimes it feels as if she is just there for taking her assigned classes, drawing her salary, and minding her own business.

But who is to be blamed? On one side there is poor cooperation from the school’s management that simply looks at the numbers and not the quality of education delivered, and on the other hand there are parents who realize that they have a child only when he/she fails a test. And in the middle of both extremes lies the student who believes education is just a ‘ritual’. All that a student has heard people say to him/her is that ‘if you’ll go to school you’ll be a successful person’. But what does ‘being successful’ mean to a kid? Success, as a word, is in fact very difficult even for a grown up to define then how can one expect a child to understand this vague term?  And from here the child embarks on his journey of life making this nebulous term as its basis without knowing – at least until it’s too late – what is the real reason one has joined a school. Pondering over these issues, she even sometimes blames herself for not coping up with the changing time. Had she been able to adapt to the realities of the changing times she might have mitigated the feeling she is having this moment. She is well aware that she can’t generalize the problems but they exist and that is for sure.

Her pensive mood was broken when there was a knock on the cabin door. On inquiring who was there, came a reply of a male voice from the other side who identified himself as her student, 10 years ago. Perplexed who he was, she gave her consent for the uninvited guest to come in. Along with a man there entered a women, who seemed to be his wife and their 5-year-old kid. ‘Happy Teacher’s day, ma’am‘ were his first words the moment he stepped in the cabin and bent to touch her feet. “I could never have been what I’m in my life if it were not you who handled my tantrums, and helped me become what I’m today. You helped me watch the light of success across the tunnel of difficulties when I was delirious with what is that I actually seek from my life,” he continued. On the conversations that followed, he revealed that he had come to enroll his daughter as a student of the school. It was a brief meeting wherein he introduced her to his wife and told her about what he had achieved after he left the school. Taking her blessing, he took a leave and promised her to keep in touch.

Hardly had he left her cabin when there was a sudden downpour. (Click here for effects) All of a sudden she was enthused with ethereal feelings as if a hidden trove of unfathomable power had been unearthed. She moved towards the window and stretched out her hands to feel the cold water kiss her hand. She again found herself in the body of a 7-year-old girl sitting by the front porch and watching her paper boat drain in the rivulet. By now both her parents were sitting beside her. While her mother was making a new paper boat for her, her father told her, “One can never realize a dream in just one go, and if one does then he/she is lucky. You will doubt your decisions and doubt your efforts but remember, never stop pedaling to power your dreams.” Her chain of thoughts were broken with a loud ring of the school bell. She took her books and locked her cabin to take her scheduled lecture. Closing the door she found a card on her door knob that read ‘Happy Teacher’s day‘. She strode away smiling, taking it from there and placing it between the pages of her book.

An Accidental Voyage

One, out of a series of images that were captured by his then human mind within a span of few minutes, was of people rushing towards him. He could not recall how much time had lapsed before he found himself awkwardly lying on the gravel ridden tarmac. He was unsure if it was his brain conjuring up images of  men shouting out at him and asking him if he was all right, or was it for real. Through bleary eyes, all he could see were some broken pieces of glass and the contents of his bag scattered around him. Due to the impact his spectacle was thrown at a hands away distance. Fighting  the urge to become unconscious, he found a heavy two-wheeled machine all over his legs. The rear wheel of his bike was still spinning at a speed as if it was still being accelerated. Hardly a moment had passed when he felt a tingling sensation on the back of his neck, as if a snake was making its way to his buttocks along his spine. When he touched the back of  his neck the reality dawned upon him. A warm and thick red colored liquid was on his palm. The blood had now started trickling from his eyebrows onto his once-white-now-muddy shirt.

The most eerie feeling, however, he remember having the last time he breathed life as a human was that he didn’t feel any pain. In fact, he was happy and wanted to laugh. Laugh, like he had never laughed in his 30 years of human existence. He was feeling dizzy and wanted to rest. It would sound completely absurd but he was happy; happy because he was  completely ripped of all the responsibilities of a son, a father, a brother, a friend. He was now feeling as light as a feather. He wanted to sleep and rest, which he did, and that was about to last till eternity.

But the moment he remembered the roles he had played, while he lived on this blue-green planet, the faces of the beautiful people he had encountered in his life flashed against him. He was leaving behind those special people who had made his life worth to be called as a ‘human life’. He remembered the most beautiful lady who brought him into this world. The one with whom he had shared his heart beat, blood, food, and pain, well before breathing human life. It was strange but he could now distinctly remember the smile she had on her face the first time she heard him speak ‘mamma’, the tear in her eyes the first time he stood on his feet, the way she waived good bye the first time he went to school, the worry she had all over her face when he caught cold. Perhaps, she was the one who taught him why ‘mother’ was the most beautiful word of all words. He also now remembered the man who loved him the most but never made it explicit. He was the one who played with him, nursed his injured knees when he fell off a bicycle, stood as a wall against the worldly sufferings and pains, made him a man of good character and high self-esteem.

Photo Courtesy: Krunal Smart

He remembered the friends he had made and who would remain forever, maybe even on the day of his cremation. He could now hear himself laugh when he was with them, the late night outs, the group study just before exams, watching movies and skipping classes, especially the way they used to cover up on him when he was with his girlfriend. He remembered his wife with whom he shared his fears, his happiness, his success, and his life. She was his first and only love. He remembered the way she said ‘yes’ when he proposed her, and the way she looked at him, with tears in her eyes and smile on her lips, when he completed the final rite of their wedding. She was in her white hospital gown when she had their little princess in the cradle beside her bed. That was the moment when he felt his life was perfect. He owed his success to these people in one way or the other.

All the happy feelings he had had a few moments ago were now shrouded in a cloak of guilt and remorse. Guilt because he didn’t – not even for a second – considered what would happen to these people after he left; and remorse because he still had many years before he would grow old and die of oldness. He now wanted to live and live to the fullest. He wanted to watch his daughter take her first step. He wanted to be with his parents when they would need his support in their oldage. He wanted to let his wife know how much he loved her and what importance she holds in his life. He wanted to hang out with his friends again and watch a game of cricket. They all loved him and he loved them too.

His eyes were filled with tears – tears of separation and tears of fear – when he heard a voice which was as sweet as honey. A voice that sounded familiar. The voice spoke to him in his ears and asked him why he was crying. The voice inquired if he was OK and if he wanted to stay home today. That was the moment when he recognized the voice, the one that he loved. He opened his watery eyes and focused on an angelic face in front of him. “Honey! What happened?” exclaimed his wife. And in response to her anxious expressions and curious question, he kissed her on her forehead.

*Inspired from the accident I met a day before yesterday. 

P:S: I’m fine with just a swelling on my right foot and few scratches. :)


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