The Journey!

The journey was supposed to be of twenty hours. But it seemed like it was taking forever. Every minute the train was nearing its destination, my heart was beating faster. My eyes were full of nice dreams of my little daughter. My bag was full of toys for her, carefully picked from the “LifeStyle” store for infants below 2 months. It was a nice collection of 6-7 toys for which I paid a handsome amount of money. But it was worth it.
I was picking up the toys one by one and looking at them with awe. They will be held by tiny hands after a few hours. I found myself getting into conversation with strangers, almost forcing upon my happiness on them, discussing about my baby. Was it infectious? I think it was, because I found those very strangers beaming with broad smiles, as if they have seen my baby through my words, through my eyes. I haven’t given her a name yet. I was going for her naming ceremony after a full one month. God really gave me strength to hold back for such a long time.
I reached home in the night. I had to go to my in-laws in the morning where my wife was waiting for me with our little angel. Whooof…..Another night of waiting!!!!
The moment I went to my in-laws place, I heard the joys and screams of people over there. There was too much rush as if it were a marriage. And there is a never ending list of persons whom you have to meet. You can’t deny, because you can’t hurt their feelings!
I met my wife’s parents. They led me inside where I met my wife. Simple, as usual, she was supposed to look drained off after the delivery. But, surprisingly, she was glowing than ever! There was my daughter, on the bed staring at the roof.
She couldn’t focus her eyes on me, yet I could feel that I am all important for her. She couldn’t hold my hand, yet I could feel that she would hold me when I will need her. There was a sense of responsibility in me now. Responsible for a new living being in this world; my own blood, my baby. People say her eyes bear an uncanny resemblance to my eyes. I take pride in that. Why not, I am her father! And a girl child who resembles her father in something or another is said to be happy. My daughter would not be that shy girl next door but a strong willed girl of the world she is going to be a part of. She would be the perfect example of a girl whose birth would probably give no reason why would anybody want a son. She wont grow up instantly. Obviously, that will take its own course of time. A lot of time will go in bringing her up, but the journey would be worth it.

Mother

God realized that he could not be present everywhere. Therefore, he created mothers.

Those wet eyes, which look at my path with the sole expectation that her son would come and make her happy, make her smile. I would wipe away the tears fom her eyes; my very presence would make her feel strong. Her weak body would suddenly get a dose of adrenalin. She would rush to the verandah to welcome me. I would hug her as if I have not met for years, like it was my dying wish just to meet her. Tears would role down my cheeks.I would hastily wipe them off, forcing a smile on my face.

"You are so late, son!"Yes I am mom, I am. I always am.I think I am destined to be late.How unfortunate would a son be who could not see his father in his last moment! How unfortunate would a son be who could not put fire on his father's pyre in spite of being the eldest son.

I was late. Late by a whole seventeen hours.And I am late today.
Should I blame the train or my fate? Here is a lady who has lost her husband barely a few months back. Her only solace are her two sons. And I am late!Shame.

She would let me in and ask me about my health. "Have you checked your pressure recently?
Have you got any headache recently? Have you been getting good food to eat?" Her questions
would go on, without a full-stop.
"And what about your medicines Ma? Are you having them regularly or not?" I would ask.

"Me? What will I do by living anymore? " She would say, with tears rolling down her cheeks. "Some basic responsibilities for which I have to live Then I would go to your father ............. S..O..O..N"

That would tear across my heart. "Look, I dont want to repeat this everytime. You are not going anywhere. I wont let you go anywhere!!!"
An angry son would leave the room in a haste. Immediately after going out of the room, his
limbs would become weak; as if it had no power to stand still. His eyes would turn blood red; oozing out tears.
Then, a warm hand would reach my shoulders.Its my wife. Staying with my mom ever since our baby was born(my baby was born shortly after my father's demise).She sacrificed her own happiness to make me feel comfortable. Being there with my mom when I have to slog at office far far away in another corner of the country.She knows we have the lifetime to be with each other, to share our love and happiness with each other. But right now, our priorities have changed. A wish to give my mother the world of peace and comfort. Not to let her feel lonely, to make her realize her children are still there with her, her pillars of strength.

The loss!!

Those who haven’t lost somebody very close to them would never understand the pain of the people who have gone through it.
I have gone through it, having lost my father.
It was a wound that would be fresh through out my life. It has been eight months since then; and it is still hard to believe that he is no more. I couldn’t see him in his last minutes. Perhaps this might be the reason why do I find it hard to believe it.

A call at 6.30 AM in the morning would never be the same again. A flight to Vizag would never be the same again. And add to it the endless hours I spent at the Railway station waiting for a train to pass by, so that I might get home as quickly as possible.
The journey from the main gate to my mother’s room was like a year’s journey to me. My heart bled after looking her swollen eyes and plain forehead. She used to like red sarees and bright bangles. Her forehead used to shimmer in sindoor.

Today back home, nothing is as before. I get reminded of my father in every little thing in the house. Those suppressed tears in my mother’s eyes make me shiver. Eyes which are speechless yet they speak volumes.
Today, I have a small kid whose presence should be making me happy. And I have a loving wife. But the pain of loss of my father far more supersedes the joy I should be feeling for the birth of my daughter.
Sometimes, I feel the person within me unable to have that range of emotions to share with my mother, and my wife and kid. I feel unable be happy and unhappy at the same time. Here I have a woman in my life for whom there is nobody besides me and another woman for whom I mean the world. My world would never be the same again.Yet, life goes on.