It was a wintry evening. The cold of the winds pressed itself against the heated breadth of the land assuring comfort for the ever agonized life on it. Living beings seemed to thank the ubiquitous nature for having this part of the year in its calendar; may be it too has a reminder, they thought. Life was finding reasons to live life, to give life even to lifeless beings; they too should experience the joy of living, if at all, it should be now. Birds too seemed to respond with their sharp, short chirps and frequent fluttering of their small wings letting the coolness of the softly blowing breeze caress every being of their tiny body. Life was finding way into its presumed home, the place where it had been longing to live. It had always wanted to get into as many little hearts as possible and capture the over-growing world. Now was the time, the moment. Give people more and more reasons to live and they will be yours – was its motto.
Silently accepting all this without a revolt was a dark figure half lying on his sofa. Dark made not by God in complexion but by nature through its present composition. The hidden sun looked helpless in helping this being from looking brighter, from looking lively. All seemed to die down in the vacuum present in him. Few sound waves had never found their way into his ear drums. Especially, the like of ones which were getting bombarded on him now, “You know what a burden you have become on me?” Only ‘You’ reached him. Rest of the sentenced redirected itself in every other direction but him. That alone could help the sentence stay alive; who doesn’t want to live!
“Are you listening to me?” shouted the voice. It was vociferous but more silent in magnitude was his mind. Closed eyes seemed to bind calmness within him, neither allowing the people around to have it nor getting polluted by their idealness. “Whole life I have spent with a hope that one day you will take care of me. A day will dawn when I will be able to rest without any botherations and live a life which will give me peace of mind. But you!” His eyes opened and stared right into his father’s. “Were those statements addressed to me?” they seemed to say and closed as soon as they thought the statement was over. There was vacant emptiness in him that did not want to come out. It, too, wanted to capture as many people as possible in this world of increasing restlessness. Give its calmness, or as people said laziness, to people and make life peaceful or full of boredom, as people like to frame it and talk about it. Then the world will be its. Life gave vibrancy, meaning to living. Emptiness too gave the same things but not to the people within whom it resided but to the people around that person. Emptiness flag read – If people want to be peaceful, let them learn to accept me.
A long silence followed. A change clambered with it. Altogether new experience seemed to move into the alcove of his being. Unable to bear the restlessness that galloped seamlessly, unrest set in his eyelids. Out of frustration they opened to see the light outside which stayed unruffled in the shirking silence. They followed the silhouette of an old tired figure crossing the threshold and bang shut the door. The light was short-lived. Darkness alone came from that end. He turned, moved, swiveled and looked in every direction possible. His senses lost sense of directions. He didn’t even know whether his eyes were open or closed. He tried making it out. But eyelids didn’t respond with any sense of touch. Rather the space around his eyes didn’t reflect any sensation of his eyelids or its movement. Or was it that his nervous system too stopped assisting him as his father had?
The restlessness in him grew into desperation. He didn’t want darkness, he didn’t want silence. Father, where are you? Scold me, shout at me. His throat too looked to have taken leave of its master. This threw him in a sense of frenzy. A man who was composed and indifferent a little while ago had suddenly grown wild. Even wild weeds take time to grow. But this one was as instantaneous as thought. He was not able to see. Not able to speak. Not able to hear. Not able to feel anything except for the growing mound of heaviness within him which was weighing him down to the same steady sofa which, just a few minutes ago represented sereneness, peacefulness, emptiness. He let out a cry, finally. The cry reached crescendo and some sound vibrated his throat. A streak of Light flashed. Eyes flew wide open. Ear-drums reverberated and heard his voice; a shout of dismay, of agony, of respite.
He got up. Involuntarily, his right hand moved to his right where a table lay which looked right next to the sofa. Dim light around helped him to recognize the lamp on it. He pressed it on and a sigh of relief swayed him back to peace. He tried to swoosh away this nightmare but he soon realized that this was not just a dream. It was the same thing that had happened in the same house years ago. His father had never crossed that threshold again to come onto this side. He had never let himself seen again. He had left his son as one left a bad bargain in the market. The son had deserved it…
* * *
As he thought of that day, he remembered how very much he didn’t want it to happen again. Yes, he had deserved it but now he didn’t. Days had rolled by from that day like pages in his biography which was never written. Now he had become a respectable person in the society, though more so because of his father’s reputation. He had been striving hard to earn the same for himself, but his father always overshadowed him. He didn’t get dejected, on the contrary felt proud. He had been missing his father, but he loved his life now. He had never seen him again in person, but life showed him his ideals at every stage. He saw his father in every rung of his success. He knew he owed his life to him. He got this life because of him. And he wanted to make him proud of this. Today was the day. He will be meeting his father at the church. Father, I am coming…
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