a story....

I opened my eyes, feeling the still air of the languid afternoon settle on my hot, flushed face. I took in the sterile room in which I lay, on a bed with crisp, almost too white sheets. The white glared and glazed, like the desert sand under a burning sun. The curtains were a pale blue hanging limp against the window, waiting for the infrequent breeze to flutter them. They seemed to continue into the sky beyond, their color blending perfectly with it. The sky was empty, bereft of clouds, as if the sun had decided that it would be his sole dominion. None of the clouds, with fragile translucent personalities had managed to evade his rule and so none lurked even in the corners. The room itself seemed in a daze, much like me. It was still and silent. I stared at the slow moving comatose fan for a while. The blades seemed to turn with my each new thought, each rotation sweeping the cobwebs of the old one aside. Only the persistent beeping of the heartbeat monitor gave away the secret that life had in fact been given a small space in the cavernous lethargy of this exhausted room. Finally I managed to open my eyes completely. The sun stared back with an unflinching gaze. I looked around and spotted vikram, dozing in a corner. The anxiety of the previous night had left his face and he had finally given in to fatigue.

Vicky, his friends in college used to call him. How corny, was what I had thought when he first said a tentative hello to me, as his friends snickered in the backdrop like underpaid, overacting extras in a movie scene. He had been a little awkward those days. Too tall, too shy; with a baby face that seemed too innocent for the cigarette that dangled in a corner of his mouth. He had been clumsy in his initial conversations, fidgety in his approach but the love was too obvious to ignore. And so we made it. And made it this far. After two years of dating, four of living in and then again four of marriage we seemed inseparable to me.

And now we had just turned a new corner in our journey together and stumbled on to a new landscape. A landscape that promises us exhilarating highs and disheartening lows; jagged stones and glassy pebbles; lush green grass and thorny bramble; intoxicating flowers and wilted shrubs; cooling shade and blinding sunshine; smooth glades and awkward bumps. It promises us a new life, a new experience, an opportunity to find ourselves as one and as individuals all over again.

That is what a child does to you, it brings your life to a cross road and takes you towards a path that will be his to lead and yours to follow. But all the while you must scatter the bread crumbs so you can return where you had left off when he is ready to take flight from the nest.

As I looked at Vikram, his arms crossed neatly despite his body being in the throngs of deep sleep, his mouth slightly ajar as his head tipped backwards, his shirt crumpled, his feet splayed out, he awoke with a start. I couldn't help smiling a teasing smile. Where is he? I asked. He is in the nursery. I'll tell the nurse you are awake. Vikram left leaving me alone to ponder over this momentous decision of my life.

I had always been the baby of my family. Mollycoddled, pampered and indulged. And vikram just took up where my mother had left off. and now i had a small, fragile life to take care of. A new part of an old me. suddenly I knew what being an adult actually meant. I waited, my eyes unwavering, watching the door through which he would soon come, right into my arms. Vikram came in with the nurse in his wake. But he wasn't with them and my eyebrows crossed in a puzzled frown. Then slowly he came through the door, safe and sound, in my grandma's arms.

Childhood and old age in peace with each other. A pink finger curled around an old wrinkled one. Discovery and experience. A blank page and an ancient dog-eared book. My grandma in a crisp cream cotton sari. She smiled and her eyes disappeared behind her thick glasses. Slowly, carefully she placed him next to me, in the crook of my arm. She patted my head and then smoothed the down on his small, perfect head.

She said to me- "You know what they say about afterlife na? You are always born amongst the same people. People you have known for births together. Just your relationships keep changing. I could die and be your daughter in my next life, you know?" I analyzed this particular piece of information. I could have brushed it aside as I always did when my grandma tried to draw me into religious or spiritual talks. But I didn't. Some part of me believed it.

I had never seen him like this. Wrapped in a white cloth, eyes closed, serene, no worries etched in fine lines, only a sedate calm and a childlike innocence. I had refused to go for his funeral. I did not want see him like that. Gone from my life forever, silent. But I could see him now, the newest arrival in my life, promising to fill it with music. I had never felt surer about it.

My child, my father.