Joy
A distant cry jerked my insides to the peripherals. It was of a small child. This struck me. Where was my child? My ears twitched to reckon the direction of the cry which seemed to die away. Where are you, cried my throat. Barely was it audible. A pleading scream pierced the silence of the destruction. I tried my best to get up and move. It was now that I realized that my right arm had lost its upper flesh. It was bare; maybe there was no more blood to bleed. Arm had become the heaviest part of the body. My body fell under the weight of a mere arm. Yet, I had no choice. I had to get up.
Mustering all the courage, my legs lifted the body. A smoky dust of the rubble around made the place misty. The rustic view added to the wrath of my burning eyes. The broken windows and walls kept hitting the legs as I tried to clamber. I tried moving faster. But something, as though reading my thoughts, hit my legs and my off-balanced body was to become part of the rubble again. My left arm tried its best to make the fall less painful. It landed on the breast of a cold body. First sight of the body sent an acute chill across my spine. The mouth of the body was gaping at the stunned night, as though calling me, for the last time; eyes staring right into my eyes, now reflecting my helplessness. A soul-less drop of tear oozed out of the corner of my eye and fell on the tender cheek of my son. He was dead. My tired fingers closed his eyes even before they learned to see life. I did not grieve. Something in me kept me detached. It asked for something higher.
The cry of the child screamed in my ears and brought my body back onto the feet. The grim breeze continued to be the villain. Carrying my trembling body and praying for the little kid to cry at least once more, I kept walking. As I waited, I kept waiting. No sound came. A drop of sweat for the first time came dancing down my cheek. Water. Yes, I was thirsty. I knew I was thirsty, but my throat did not ask. I was tired and each step required an effort equivalent to the strength required to move an unwilling elephant nevertheless my body never asked for
rest. My eyes begged each ray of light entering it, not to enter yet my eyelids did not close it. My voice alone betrayed me.
My feet kept taking me, unconsciously, until it reached the place where I could see a kid suffering under the load of an iron cupboard. Cursing my incompetence, I tried shifting it with my left hand. Weight seemed movable. I closed my eyes. Calling for all the strength I could, I pulled the cupboard with both hands. Anyway my throat had lost its ability to function. Any pain would go unnoticed, at least externally. But I was to be proved wrong again. Next moment I trembled. I fell. Under the efficient working of the hinges in my knees, my body effortlessly sank to the ground. I heard a cry, a cry of relief. Then I heard my throat that had not budged from moving any of its vocal cords earlier, screaming to its full strength. Silence vanished. The sun too vanished as though cursing its mocking existence. A veil of dark black clouds covered my eyes. My eyes got the much awaited close. Relief surfaced. Peace at last…
* * *
My eye-lids flickered. A soothing hold on my left palm tightened. It was my wife’s, sitting on a weak stool of an emergency hospital setup for the treatment of all the sufferers of the earthquake, smiling and crying at the same time. I could see her grieve over the death of our child but happy to see her only support, now taking her support. I turned to see my right arm but it did not exist. Another part of me had deserted me. I was happy that though I would not be there, my hand would always be to take care of my only son. A face similar to my son’s was staring at me, silently. I recognized him to be the one whom I had seen under the iron cupboard. He slowly came to me and kissed on my cheek. A smile broke on his lips. A tear from my eye acknowledged it. Something in me had got its answer. I could see my son in his eyes. I could see Joy in his eyes…
Lucifer`
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