The careful words woven in simplest of Bengali syllables by
the doctor had cut through Rashika. She walked slowly up the stairs staring at
the hallways, whose occupants ran in pandemonium. Patients were being brought in
and taken out accompanied by anxious or hopeful relatives and escorted by
expressionless wardens. The corners were filled with cobwebs and detached
patches of white paint. Once in a while
the heavy sound of the lift would either seem to approach or fade away.
Death had come to him slow, just as it did to baba,
until there was a moment when the earthly fastened soul tore apart itself for
abode. It wasn’t kind. It was just the
end. Bashudha held the handles of her purse tightly as she moved forward. There
was grief all over. Her swollen eyes were the reminiscent of the love she had for
Ashok. The tiny kid held the end of her draped sari still unaware of the
reaction he was supposed to render. He cried because his mother did so. Rashika
went closer to the infant and fixed her gaze on his face. It was at this age
when she had lost baba. The young infant freshly introduced in the world,
would soon become foreign with the idea of his lost father. The certificates
and books will be a reminder of his legacy in his small world. Perhaps
someday someone would utter her name or her moments with the family.
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The muscle relaxation kept Ashok’s eyes half opened, it soon
caught the attention of one of the nurses and she rushed to close it. It is
painful to see the eyes of the departed. She stood beside the lifeless corpse
when she heard someone utter in a feeble voice.
“It is good for him that it ended, it had been a painful battle for since long. Hope he finds peace.”
Rashika had seen him grow with the agonizing pain each day.
At one point the painkillers were helpless to the inner afflictions. With each
passing day the previous suffering went away and the new one took over. Ashok
never seemed to sleep, not even after long hours of tirelessly reading the
books at the hospital. He simply used to read his books or gaze at the
visitors. At a point when their number increased, he hardly paid any attention
to them and simply looked fixedly at the ceiling. Rashika knew that this was
one thing Ashok avoided. He never loved too many people around him at
celebrations and grief. He took fewer notes of sorrows and rejoices. He had
seen the world through the pages of history and had traversed it all alone. He
had been to the medieval ages, the dark ages, seen the empires built their
foundations and the national movements.
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However, it was never good. Death has nothing good in it.
There was no hope, no tomorrow. It was a puzzle that missed its last piece just
to remain incomplete forever.
As her numb hands touched his face, it felt as if spikes of
a venomous plant had penetrated her heart. Ashok’s chapped lips were cold and
broken. Unaware of the people present around, she took out the small tube of petroleum
jelly and carefully applied on his lips rubbing them softly. His face was sunken
deep with no signs of peace on it. The cancer cells had divided themselves continuously
competing with the other ones leading to a gruesome fight that was destined to
be lost. The half opened mouth might have been the desperation of body reflex
to gasp the last breath until it could get no more. Mist descended over her
eyes and cast a veil making her view translucent.
When still a child, her mother said that death had taken baba
to an eternal paradise of clouds, feathers and of sweet caramel toffees which
never ran out of supplies. The following year, she had seen one of the puja
pandal resembling a crude replica of the paradise that maa had
described. She asked her mother if baba was inside or not and hoped he
would turn up from the crowd towards her. He never did. Rashika came home to
change her dazzling new frock into an old one in case baba had failed to
recognize her in the new dress. Baba did not come and maa never
answered. That was the day when pujas ended forever for Rashika.
The continuous noise of people present did little to hinder
her deep desire to gaze at Ashok. She recalled the day Ashok had called her at
the ghat and said that he was fading away. He feared to discuss his pain
with Basudha for she was too feeble and thus had chosen her to let his thoughts
out. All the while he verbalized; Rashika simply looked at the turbulent river rebellious
of its course throw its fury on the muddy banks. Ashok described dreaming of
falling into an eternal abyss of darkness and clouded palaces with skeletal guards.
She knew his imagination always found ways to express itself even in times of
distress. He used to do the same in class. Rashika never thought death would be
inevitable although at one point she considered that his demise was close.
She was thankful that for once Ashok had chosen her. May be
it was never to share joy or peace. It was only agony and pain that connected
him to her.
Basudha came closer and hugged her. It was like those numerous
other times when Rashika had been a refuge for her. Tears rolled down Basudha’s
cheeks and made way through Rashika’s neck eventually merging through the
narrow gorge of her spine to be soaked by her clothes later.
“Take good care of your child. See that he carries the
legacy of professor. You have been more than a sister to me.” Rashika uttered
in a feeble voice and detached herself from Basudha.
“The exhausted stale light and air,
As souls rose to heaven, in despair.
A veil over the cosmos guard the view,
I have loved, but a few.
On the exposed walls of ruthless nights,
A flint of light, a desire to fight.
Butchered and mutilated hopes,
An illusion would call, we would elope.
On the swinging branches of life,
You would come to end this strife.
And I will wait for times to come,
Until end is cheated and we are done.
For once I need you on the hillside top,
Watching meadows and time would stop.
On this floor there will be a ground,
No fences or walls to keep us bound.”
