Status: This is a short story
Alive.
My father.
21st March 1997
The little girl clung to the man as he stood by the roadside. She outright refused to relinquish her grip on him, much to the dismay of her mother who was continuously trying to peel the child off of the man. Suddenly stubborn, she simply refused point blank to let go of his shirt.
The man, still smiling at her childishness, gently asked her to let go and told her that when he would come back they will play together for hours and go to the busy mall road at night together. The child was strange. She could’t easily fall asleep at night and had to be coaxed and sometimes even threatened to go to sleep. Often however she would climb the man’s shoulders and together they would trek out into the dark night. They would go sit on the sole bench at the side of the famous and busy mall road. The strange, bright, cars whooshing by would somehow calm the odd child and she would peacefully fall asleep watching them fly by.
Today however was different. The man was a doctor who had to go to a relief camp up north. He was supposed to leave yesterday and return tomorrow but a change of plans had altered this schedule and now he was leaving today and was to return the day after tomorrow. Well, that was if the little girl would let him leave in the first place.
He smiled at the little girl whose dark brown eyes were beginning to shine with un-shed tears. Her mother was getting fed up this roadside drama and as she pried her hands off the now crumpled shirt of the man she said in a strict tone, “Let go, it’s not like Abba* is never going to come back.”
She looked up at her mother and despite the tears that had now spilled over, because the dreaded departure was closer than ever, she smiled ruefully at her mother’s promise. She was assured of the fact that her Abba would one day return and she would count the minutes till then.
As he boarded the bus he turned around and smiled and waved at her.
23rd March 2007
The girl stepped out of the car. Wary and her eyes guarded, she stepped over the low chain across the rust-eaten shabby metal gates. The air considerably thickened and it became difficult to breathe.
She looked over to the solitary huge willow tree that swayed in the dry breeze. Despite herself, the simple beauty of nature made her smile. Then she remembered what she was here for and she hurried forward, her eyes searching.
She saw what she was searching for and quickened her pace in her eagerness to reach it.
23rd March 1997
Wearily her eyes opened. She could’t ignore the sounds anymore. She had to know what it was about. I seemed as if someone was wailing and lamenting. Her mind still fogged from the deep slumber she had been awakened from could’t comprehend the situation.
She left the warm bed to go and investigate. As she entered the living room, her small fists rubbing at her tired eyes she saw a sight that alarmed her.
Her mother was sobbing uncontrollably and her grandmother was weeping silently in a corner. Her uncle was trying to console her mother. Worried she went up to her mother and tugged at her sleeve asking her what was wrong. She refused to look at her and continued with her sobbing.
Her uncle too refused to look at her with his watery, bloodshot eyes. Her grandmother gave her a woebegone look as the only answer.
Confused her eyes trailed over to an odd-shaped thing on the floor that was cloaked in white. Not caring much for what it was, whatever it was, she side-stepped it and went and huddled next to her mother. Something bad had happened, that much she knew, nothing else.
She decided that she’ll wait for her Abba to come back. He was supposed to come back today. He’ll tell her everything. And then as he had promised they would go out to the mall at night. Today she will make him atone for his absence by buying an ice-cream, no—two ice-creams both should be vanilla—her favorite. She smiled because she knew her father would oblige, as always.
Still something tugged at her insides, drawing her eyes to the odd-shaped white thing on the ground. Something was not right, that much she knew.
But then the thought of her father and vanilla ice cream lead her mind elsewhere and she forgot all the pain around her and was lost in her own world. She always had this way of shielding herself from pain and forming this bubble around herself. She could block out all the pain and remember only the good. This was perhaps what was to keep her sane in all the years to follow.
23rd March 2007
She fleetingly touched the cold tombstone, her touch almost loving; as she remembered that day she had waited and waited. In one way she was still waiting. She was still waiting for someone to come and fill that void that was left after her fathers’ untimely departure. She was still waiting for that one last promise to be fulfilled. She was still waiting for him.
In one way however, she was proud of who she had become. She had lived up to her fathers’ expectations and dreams. And in all the things that she did she felt as if he was still there guiding her. As if he was still there telling her that everything would be alright, telling her that he was there.
Ruefully she thought that this grave that held his body prisoner was futile in keeping him from her. He was still there, just not in the ways that were expected. She believed that he still lived, not as a ghost, mind you. But for her he lived through her every day. He breathed because she breathed, he saw what she saw, and he lived the life she lived. He lived because she had decided to take him with her everywhere she went. She knew that his memory would live on through her. And this is what gave her strength to face the world without the only man she had ever trusted.
The little girl clung to the man as he stood by the roadside. She outright refused to relinquish her grip on him, much to the dismay of her mother who was continuously trying to peel the child off of the man. Suddenly stubborn, she simply refused point blank to let go of his shirt.
The man, still smiling at her childishness, gently asked her to let go and told her that when he would come back they will play together for hours and go to the busy mall road at night together. The child was strange. She could’t easily fall asleep at night and had to be coaxed and sometimes even threatened to go to sleep. Often however she would climb the man’s shoulders and together they would trek out into the dark night. They would go sit on the sole bench at the side of the famous and busy mall road. The strange, bright, cars whooshing by would somehow calm the odd child and she would peacefully fall asleep watching them fly by.
Today however was different. The man was a doctor who had to go to a relief camp up north. He was supposed to leave yesterday and return tomorrow but a change of plans had altered this schedule and now he was leaving today and was to return the day after tomorrow. Well, that was if the little girl would let him leave in the first place.
He smiled at the little girl whose dark brown eyes were beginning to shine with un-shed tears. Her mother was getting fed up this roadside drama and as she pried her hands off the now crumpled shirt of the man she said in a strict tone, “Let go, it’s not like Abba* is never going to come back.”
She looked up at her mother and despite the tears that had now spilled over, because the dreaded departure was closer than ever, she smiled ruefully at her mother’s promise. She was assured of the fact that her Abba would one day return and she would count the minutes till then.
As he boarded the bus he turned around and smiled and waved at her.
23rd March 2007
The girl stepped out of the car. Wary and her eyes guarded, she stepped over the low chain across the rust-eaten shabby metal gates. The air considerably thickened and it became difficult to breathe.
She looked over to the solitary huge willow tree that swayed in the dry breeze. Despite herself, the simple beauty of nature made her smile. Then she remembered what she was here for and she hurried forward, her eyes searching.
She saw what she was searching for and quickened her pace in her eagerness to reach it.
23rd March 1997
Wearily her eyes opened. She could’t ignore the sounds anymore. She had to know what it was about. I seemed as if someone was wailing and lamenting. Her mind still fogged from the deep slumber she had been awakened from could’t comprehend the situation.
She left the warm bed to go and investigate. As she entered the living room, her small fists rubbing at her tired eyes she saw a sight that alarmed her.
Her mother was sobbing uncontrollably and her grandmother was weeping silently in a corner. Her uncle was trying to console her mother. Worried she went up to her mother and tugged at her sleeve asking her what was wrong. She refused to look at her and continued with her sobbing.
Her uncle too refused to look at her with his watery, bloodshot eyes. Her grandmother gave her a woebegone look as the only answer.
Confused her eyes trailed over to an odd-shaped thing on the floor that was cloaked in white. Not caring much for what it was, whatever it was, she side-stepped it and went and huddled next to her mother. Something bad had happened, that much she knew, nothing else.
She decided that she’ll wait for her Abba to come back. He was supposed to come back today. He’ll tell her everything. And then as he had promised they would go out to the mall at night. Today she will make him atone for his absence by buying an ice-cream, no—two ice-creams both should be vanilla—her favorite. She smiled because she knew her father would oblige, as always.
Still something tugged at her insides, drawing her eyes to the odd-shaped white thing on the ground. Something was not right, that much she knew.
But then the thought of her father and vanilla ice cream lead her mind elsewhere and she forgot all the pain around her and was lost in her own world. She always had this way of shielding herself from pain and forming this bubble around herself. She could block out all the pain and remember only the good. This was perhaps what was to keep her sane in all the years to follow.
23rd March 2007
She fleetingly touched the cold tombstone, her touch almost loving; as she remembered that day she had waited and waited. In one way she was still waiting. She was still waiting for someone to come and fill that void that was left after her fathers’ untimely departure. She was still waiting for that one last promise to be fulfilled. She was still waiting for him.
In one way however, she was proud of who she had become. She had lived up to her fathers’ expectations and dreams. And in all the things that she did she felt as if he was still there guiding her. As if he was still there telling her that everything would be alright, telling her that he was there.
Ruefully she thought that this grave that held his body prisoner was futile in keeping him from her. He was still there, just not in the ways that were expected. She believed that he still lived, not as a ghost, mind you. But for her he lived through her every day. He breathed because she breathed, he saw what she saw, and he lived the life she lived. He lived because she had decided to take him with her everywhere she went. She knew that his memory would live on through her. And this is what gave her strength to face the world without the only man she had ever trusted.
♠ ♠ ♠
In loving memory of the man who meant the world to me, I will never forget you.Yours truly,
Injila.
*{p.s. "Abba" means father}