It is an evening. The sun has set already and the mid east heat is gone. Cool breeze is blowing gently. The contours of shimmering clouds are slowly giving way to embrace darkness. The fake blue turning black sky refuses to show me its display of stars because of the fully lit city.
I am refusing to budge from the balcony. In fact, I am sitting on the chair with both my legs up, embracing them with my hands resting my chin on the knees. It may sound childish but I love to sit that way always. My eyes watch the birds chirping with an urge to go back home. My misty eyes try to capture the reflections of faces that I have come across of which one stands in front ….
I am neither born rich nor pathetically poor but to modest middle-class parents settled in a sleepy town of Tamilnadu who had to take care of the educational and societal needs of the family of six.
My father was an embodiment of love and patience… my first inspiration and the best man I have met so far. Was he a good husband, a good brother, a good friend? I don’t know really but he had only praises to hear wherever he went.
He was an excellent father in all ways; never giving us advice but guiding us with options. He didn’t give us riches to inherit but showed us how to lead a life of determination, love, sincerity, honesty and dedication. His loss was truly irreparable for me. I am searching for just one more man like him in my life? Is it possible?
In this world, nobody can replace anybody as everyone is unique in our own ways. He has etched such a beautiful picture in my heart which I could never explain in words. So who else can replace him in my heart till my death?
Did I say ‘was’ all along? Yes, he is no more. He died 9 years ago due to the spread of gangrene infection in his legs. The 70-year old lion faced death knowingly and I saw it with my own eyes.
I vividly remember the day I landed in Pune with my 3-month old baby only to be shocked to see my handsome father reduced to the size of an emaciated victim. His eye sockets sunken deep, cheeks turned inward, his wheat complexioned skin riddled with wrinkles, his mouth full of ulcers, his bare chest literally displaying the skeletal bones, his rotten feet covered with a blanket……
I am just looking at the serene sky searching for the lost soul. Is the death painful for all? Or is it a deliberate illusion to have fear for death?
Where is he gone? Is he mixed with the breeze I am enjoying or merged in the vast expanse of the sky or become those hanging clouds that I admire every minute?
Yes. The soul has perfectly played its role and vanished from my life. I thank God for giving such wonderful parents. I don’t cry any more.
Of course, he taught us one thing or should I say, we learnt from the way he lived – this world is bound to change always; so never hold opinions on others.
Now, it’s my turn to live, to march on.
My consciousness slowly shifts. I can see my boundless enthusiasm burning inside slowly dimming due to the lack of that friendly, long term unconditional pat. I melt in those thoughts, yearn to dissolve my body at my will and be an invisible part of the cosmos.
But nothing happens….. That restless little bird flies hither and thither. My wish to become that bird to fly high carefree and touch the sky remains a dream….
I hear a voice beaming, “What are you dreaming sitting all alone? What do you see in those stars and sky all the time?”
I postpone my dating with nature, enter into the house and merge with the human bonds.
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