It’s been one year since my father’s demise and without him. We did everything for the first time without him- celebrating festivals (not the way we used to), going on vacation without him yet we’ve not gone on any and in past few years when he was with us; going on invitation party without him; our lifestyles have changed; our lunch-time has changed; and the most important thing- I miss my father’s scolding- his reprehending me for any reason, and his screaming our names, ‘Subham,’ ‘Chotu’ (my brother’s nickname!), and ‘Babu,’ (he used to call my mother!), aloud when he needed us.
I adhere to my beliefs, one of them, a universal belief, many believe in: ‘whatever happens happens because of a reason.’ I know it’s merely a group of words which is easy to say but not easy to accept. Nevertheless, a bitter true! Now, for example, if one of your friends’ splits up with his girlfriend, if it’s a boy or, the other way round, then you would advise him or her, ‘This was meant to happen. You couldn’t stop it happening even if you had the power. Look forward and keep walking. Don’t stop! She had gone because she had to and there’s someone better waiting for you; just wait for the correct time.’ I don’t think I should probably compare this example with my situation. Even if I do, I wouldn’t be able to console me as your friend did. So, I couldn’t do as my belief suggests me to. But, gradually the time passed, and we did recover from the pain we were suffering from.
Things happened, like, I left worshipping and requesting the God, in other words, I quit my religion and turned into an infidel, I graduated from the school (though I appeared twice, for I couldn’t score the pass marks in one subject!) I joined the Indian Railways, I couldn’t get admission in any college, and I turned 19 this year, this year. These things happened without him- although I felt he was present around me every moment, and possibly in the smallest fraction of the time. Even writing this, I feel he is behind me, reading this!
I am fond of gifts and my father liked to gift me on my birthdays. On my eighteenth birthday, which happens to be the most important birthday of any child, when he enters into an age group after which none calls him as a child or kid but an adult, crosses the threshold of childhood to adulthood, he left my hand, climbed the stairs of heaven and abandoned me in this world, to carve my way through and go wherever I want to, which happened to be the worst gift I have ever had received; he left me and my family just four days prior to my birthday, which was ‘the’ worst thing ever had happened to me.
I still remember him saying those words, “I won’t go back home,” me standing next to him, he sitting on the hospital bed after he was admitted to the hospital after his condition had waned vigorously. And, what he had said, he meant it. He didn’t come back home. No, he did come back but in a motionless, lifeless, soulless body! Sometimes, what we predict happens.
Is it true that when one is about to die, he discerns about his death? I heard some people saying!
I am leaving this as it is. . .