Retrospection

"I cannot think of a life without you", her words lingered in my ears, as I placed the razor blade on my left wrist. Her parents were not happy with the 5 digits that appeared on my salary slips. Day long counseling helped her forget me. She justified her decision as being practical. As I drew a 0.5 mm line across the vein, god drew the finishing line of my life. My soul was destined to wander in search of peace which I did not get on Earth. A Year passed by and I decided to go back to Earth, invisible to everybody. To start with, the place where my mortal remains were incinerated.

The gate of the graveyard was closed. The wind blew and the gate opened with a creaking sound. The fallen leaves of the banyan tree freely whirled to the rhythm of the wind. I did not find any remains of my mortal body. I went to her house. Her mom was busy giving directions to the cook in the kitchen. I slowly walked towards her room in the upstairs. She was lying half naked and tired beneath the bed sheet as her husband took a shower. The same tired look, which I used to see on the nights we spent together. The wind blew fluttering the curtains in the room. It went unnoticed. Things were back to normal in her life.

I slowly drifted to my office. I saw a young lad drafting beautiful status reports with colorful graphs sitting on my desk. The wind blew and the paper notes flew in air. It went unnoticed. He collected them and placed it back. My manager came near him, patted on his back for the wonderful work he did the last day.”I have never come across a guy who is as passionate about work as you are.” The same words he used to describe my work. Things were working even better without me.

My next destination was my friend’s house; I used to visit almost every day. He was too busy preparing his thesis for the PhD which he was involved in when I was with him. The gentle breeze blew and it went unnoticed. He slammed the window cursing his wife for leaving it open. . I realized I could be forgotten easily.

The last destination was my house. My little house has not changed much; expect that a garland hung across the frame of my big solo photo in the front room. The wind blew and as the door opened; my father came out of the kitchen running as if he was expecting somebody. He shut the door and before he put the bolt, he opened it again, sneaked out and left it open. As he went past my photo, he closed his eyes for a second and kissed in air. I followed him to the kitchen, a place, where I had never seen him before. His grease stained shirt, told me that he was still working in the lathe in his old age to make a living. He came out of the kitchen with bowl full of smashed rice with curd. I followed him to the bedroom. I was shocked to see my half paralyzed mom moving at the mercy of a wheel chair. The gentle breeze blew again and a tear drop tricked down her half dead cheek. I realized there were some places where I was not replaceable. It’s too late now, I know….

Colors of Life

I turned a blind eye towards all doors which were shut before me, and those which were open, I entered blindly, literally. They call it Leber's congenital amaurosis. The first time I felt my Father’s tears was on the day I had my convocation. Next phase of my life was to get into a job and retire my father from his sweeper’s job. The day when I would feel good about the fact that our municipal road is untidy. We were almost at the venue. He was more nervous than me. As always he did not express. He waited outside the gate, despite my repeated request to wait in the lobby of the building where I had my interview. My fellow candidates told me that the building was posh; it made no difference to me.

Few hours went by and I came out of the building. It was easier to visualize colors than to hurt my father. I thought of all lies that I could think of. How could I tell him, they weren’t’ ready to interview me because I was blind. How could I tell him, that the post graduation degree disqualifies me even from the sweeper’s job, which I might otherwise get. As I approached the gate, he caught my hand and asked how it went. I said “It went fine. Let’s hope for the best”. He paused for a second and said “Heard that, the profile is not very good. Let’s not take it up, even if you get.” He laughed aloud; a warm tear drop fell on my hand. We walked back home, he holding my hands and my walking stick touching his...