It was her birthday. One of those very special days in her life. And his.
The day’s work was dead tiring. It was almost 6 in the evening. He could not spare even a minute to buy anything since the morning. He got down from the auto, and bought some eatables for her. And some medicines. He closed his dried eyes in tiredness and looked at the sky.
Whistling rockets flying in the air with colors of blue, golden and green colored the air above, and the sugary fragrance of fresh sweets sweetened the air all around. It was the mid of November, but it was not very cold. The markets were still flooded with people, and their bargains belittled the whistles of the rockets above. Amidst this obstruction of crackers and bargains and the crowd, he carefully steered his auto through the narrow roads of the helpless city.
His house was near to a place where we discard and throw away unneeded things. Most of the people who could not afford clean and sanitized homes used to stay near to that place. He left his auto near to the entrance, and entered his room, kept the medicines and eatables near the door. His wife took his shirt and gave him water. As he struggled to drink it, she could see his withered forehead. He looked at his wife with sparkling eyes, and gave her the glass. She reciprocated with a contented smile.
He sat down near to the door. The colored air came inside. “Papa”, she called her father slowly. He very lovingly came towards the bed and with watery eyes and overflowing love in his heart, he caressed his daughter and gave her the needed pills. She was still unable to breathe properly. He made her sit by the wall as support, and looked at her. Her eyes were lifeless. He could feel her heartbeat, as if someone surrounded by water all around was struggling hard just to have a blessing of the air above.
It was about an hour and they were having supper. Suddenly her breaths became more frequent. They panicked, and gave her the medicine. It was of no help. The supper was left unfinished. He rushed out of the room with her in his arms. His wife followed him with the money left in home. They both ran through the narrow roads, where crackers were being lighted. As he accidentally stepped on the crackers, his leg got burnt. A part of his wife’s sari was also burnt. He started his auto and they rushed to the nearby hospital.
Amidst the celebration of the country and the colored air, he could hear his thumping heart and his daughter’s short breaths. Suddenly it became dark. All hopes were draining out. Only if they had afforded her good air …
***
They were shocked and helpless as they saw her being admitted. He started counting the money. It was not sufficient, he thought.
Few hours passed.
The doctor came outside. He was on the other end of the corridor.
Shouts and tears blasted inside the hospital that time. She cried her life out, holding him tightly by his collar as he stared at the other end of the corridor. Everyone was silent. Everyone seemed helpless. Everyone seemed to be the cause. He went into the ward, carefully took his daughter into his arms and close to his heart as he fell into uncontrollable sobs.
They got into the auto and he drove away as the doctor and his nurse went to attend another casualty.
As he drove amidst the celebrations of the city and the bargains, he became blank. It seemed as if all this celebration was for her departed soul. He was driving like a dead body…
They both sat next to her outside their room. Everyone there could see three corpses. The morning changed its color very soon. It was freezing cold then.
The next afternoon, she was buried near to a place where we dump unneeded things. He sat next to her grave while everyone left. He had sacrificed everything in his life to make her happy. She was everything for him. She was his life. She was his inspiration. She was his future. But she was his painful past now.
With the emptied void in his heart, he left her.
As soon as he left, a blown out rocket fell on her grave.
***
My parents have traveled almost three-fourth of their journey. But they had never witnessed such an uncaring celebration. Shortness of breath had developed in many of our relatives and loved ones. They were unable to breathe freely last November.
I thought it would make some point to share any thoughts with a group of illiterate literates who have studied varieties of degrees and who cannot understand the importance of living by letting others live. Unfortunately, some questions like,” Do you want me to stop celebrating for a dead body … “ shoot up at this instant.
What is more important to you? You, your friends, your boyfriend, your girlfriend, your happiness, your facebook profile, your life, your enjoyment, … your everything. Anything you associate with yourself is important for you. In your important things, there exist further varied degrees of importances, comparisons and priorities. This YOU and YOURS will only gulp YOU someday. But even then, for you nothing will have more importance than YOU. But people will still celebrate. YOU might be nothing for them.
It was her birthday. The day she died.
***
