As she made
her way to her cold car- the only one in the deserted
parking lot- Amulya’s mind took her to the night when he ended up here. And
she wished it hadn’t.
Last night, she saw him
again. Of the eleven nights Amulya spent religiously walking up to
his room just to stroke his cheek and wish him a good night,
this was the last. He has left her and there is nothing she can do to stop
him now. “I just hope you shine as bright as everyone said you would,
wherever you end up”, she said to herself, her breath billowing white
puffs in the cold December air.
He
and Amulya went long back. In fact, he was a part of her life for as
far back as her memory took her. It had been just a day since he left but
it felt to her as if an entire lifetime had passed. She never got to
have much of him in his last days, anyway. So many people had hovered
all around him that she can bet her last penny on the fact that he did not
get enough time to even register their faces. Sitting on the corner of her bed
in the darkness, she allowed herself to go further into her memory since she
had ventured to step into it anyway. She took a deep breath and prepared
herself for the inevitable outburst of helpless sobs. But she seemed
to get a weird high off this. She would think about him, tear herself into
pieces, then gather those pieces back up and go about as if nothing had
happened- until some random instance struck her memory once again. This had
become a pattern for the past twenty- four hours.
This time she thought
about his blue eyes. Throughout his life, people had marvelled at the way he
looked. This, along with his kindness and his wisdom made him the
star attraction in the family. His milky white skin paired with those
impenetrable crystal blue eyes, in a family of brown skin and brown
eyes, made him stand out. What else made him stand out was his upright,
strong and confident demeanour. He wasn’t particularly tall but the serious
expression he always wore on his face made people respect him the way one would
respect their guru. His dark round glasses and his loud and clear voice made
him someone who could not be messed with. He was grand. He was
enigmatic. He had been a great sportsman and athlete. From hockey to long
jump- he aced it all. In fact, he had turned his passion for sports into his
career at Roorkee University. But- there’s always a but- just like
with every single person on this planet, life happened to him.
Amulya now went
back to the day when she was shooting for a short film project with her
friends. She was in the middle of being slapped and thrown on the floor by her
abusive husband when her phone rang. The hint of alarm was clear in her
mother’s otherwise calm voice.
“Beta, go back home
right now. We’re on our way back as well. Baba lost his balance and fell.”
There was a short pause on the other end and then in an almost
whimper, her mother said, “he’s hurt.”
Up until this moment
Amulya had not been too acknowledging of Baba’s presence in the home- or in her
life. She had done what was required of every grandchild to do and that was
essentially where her relationship with him ended, apart from the occasional
storytelling sessions where he would narrate anecdotes from the past that
Amulya had learned by heart over these seventeen years of her life. But she
loved hearing them over and over again.
The last three months,
Amulya thought, went by in a blur. She tried remembering what those three
months felt like but all she could recall were little bits and pieces of stark
images that now seems to be engraved on her mind. Endless, sleepless
nights, shaking hands, dribbling drool, forgetfulness and broken
speech. This is all she could remember and, perhaps,
all she would remember from hereon of those
three months. Instead of tearing apart this time though, she surprised herself.
She got up and gave out a little sad laugh. It was funny, she
thought, how a lifetime of grandeur could be overshadowed in three swift
months, and be packed away and sent over to the other side.
That pleasant October day
fastened Baba’s departure. With each passing day, Baba’s winter neared until he
was as cold as that December night which took him away.
