Life Beyond Love, Chapter- One: Down Memory Lane
443 Words
It was a small village, remote and secluded under the canopy of a clear blue sky, simmering in placid joviality. Though adjoining to the town, it was not so much influenced by urbanization except for the ear-busting DJ box which the young generation of the village validated as the most essential component to celebrate any occasion fruitfully. I just hated it. Why were people so irrational and jerks? Could they not just lie down in the deep night and enjoy the tambour reverberating through the pensive night all over in a sweet melodious rhythm? I used to hear it sometimes when I knocked on the midnight clock during my studies. I listened to the music oozing out from the far end of ‘Santhal Para’. I just put the lamp off and welcomed the deep thumbing music “drim drim drim” mingling into my sensation.
It was not just music. It was a reminder, tearing my heart to pieces in desperate agony. It was the same night with sweet-smelling Madhabilata with the same music in the air except for the anxious waiting. Father had not returned yet from his work. The clock was already tucking to ten. In our dining hall, I was sitting with my Mamoni. We were both tensed.
"Will you call your father?”
"Mamoni, I've been calling him incessantly since 7 p.m. and there is no response except the boring beep…beep… beep".
"Just keep trying".
She looked heavily worried. Father never returned so late. As the night was crawling under the gibbous moon, the prickle of apprehension was tearing us apart. We waited- waited till the pink dawn crept over our terrace. We had slept all night on the sofa clenching one another in desperate prayer until the phone rang and Mamoni rushed to pick it up. It was from the Healthcare Nursing Home. Father was admitted there after a severe road accident. We had to rush; his condition was not well.
I didn't see my father anymore. I was not allowed to. They said the body was scaringly disfigured. I always remember the loving, caring, jolly face of my father as it was wreathed on the pristine white wall of our dining hall. But the shock was terrible for Mamoni. She could not bear the sudden death, the hideous reality - how a living spirit could be transformed into a bundle of flesh within 24 hours. She never cried, not a mist of water wet her lashes, only her dumb eyes shuttered all the doors around, succumbing her into an impenetrable silence, withdrawing her from the world as if a soul within a cocoon.
To be continued…
- Writer
