It was a dark and breezy evening of 25 May
2009. I was standing on the terrace of our college building, looking down at
the ground. It seemed like someone has cloaked it with green colored clouds. A
smile escaped my lips when I recollected all those happy moments I witnessed
during the college days. Tearing them apart emerged a face in my eyes –
Srishti. I loved her, yet I could never gather guts to confess my feelings to
her. Probably, because she was my closest friend and fear of losing her was
always looming around.
However, I had lost that fear of going away
from her; actually there was no fear left in my heart at all and there was no
hesitation in standing on the sharp edge of the terrace looking at the ground.
Wanting to end where it all started, I reached the college premises and stayed
there until everyone left.
It all began with low academic percentages.
I never wanted to study this! I would
rebel against my father. Nevertheless, I completed the graduation, thinking
this would relieve me from years of mental torture and shame of being a
low-performer. But never thought, things were to turn uglier. To cut long story
short, I couldn’t clear even one of the 34 interviews I had attended in last
one year. Walking back to home from an interview, everytime, with my head down,
I would seek an excuse to tell my parents. My father would look at me
sympathetically You’ll get it next time
I stopped looking into his eyes after the fifth attempt to get the job. You’re aggregate would count during
interviews he used to argue when I was in college. I snapped everytime.
Life is
such a bitch
I remembered saying this sentence a lot of times during college, but it made
perfect sense this time.
I looked down again Seems like 60 feet I calculated in my mind That should do
Looking
at the heavens, I tried to smile for the last time. I closed my eyes and took a
deep breath. My chest felt hollow; although my eyes remained barren, I was
crying in my heart, throbbing hard against my chest. What a failure you’ve been I smirked. Raising my right foot low towards
the empty space, I moved forward.
I saw red, bellowed eyes of my father
through a slit between eyes I managed to make trying to open my eyes. He was
talking to a man wearing a white apron. A
doctor perhaps I tried to scan the place for my mother, but could see her
nowhere. Right then I felt a smooth hand running on my forehand. That’s my mother! I tried to look at her
face, but my movement was blocked through immense pain. I want to look at you, maa.
“Don’t move,” I heard my mother’s teary
voice. I obeyed.
When my eyes opened again, to realize I was
still laying on a bed in the hospital. The surroundings seemed similar. 10 June! I exclaimed looking at the calendar.
I’ve been here for these many days?
I saw my parents talking to each other,
their voices barely audible. He’s growing
so old I thought looking at my father’s graying beard Strange I never noticed it
He turned to me with a relieved smile, to
which I responded smiling. Maa turned
to me when he touched her shoulder before coming closer to me, grinning. His eyes,
however, started pouring out his agony; tears flew all the way from his gritty
eyes and ran down to wrinkled cheeks. My vision blurred, as my gazed at him
through my wet eyes. Kissing the bandaged forehead, my mother wiped the tears
making me see him clearly, again. I made
you cry, baba and I will carry this guilt with me throughout my life He
shook his head, hearing me say, “I’m sorry, baba.
I’ve been a terrible son.” Eyes felt heavy, when I tried to turn towards maa. She placed her hands on my eyes, “Take
rest,” her voice felt confident, like all these years. I’m sorry, maa
It has been more than a week, since I returned
to home. All of my friends came to meet me, even Srishti, bringing along her
anger, rightly so. “I’ve never thought you are such a coward, senseless,
emotionally cold person,” she fumed, “you should have thought about your
parents, atleast.” I couldn’t tell her I
deliberately avoided that, knowing it would make me weak. That was no excuse,
though. She claimed never to see my face again, yet she turned up every
evening to see me.
Looking at my father’s photo hanging on the
wall, she told me how my father gave a hefty amount of money to the college
caretaker, Bandhu, who turned out to be my savior.
“Maa,
I want to go for a walk,” I said.
She turned her eyes from t.v. onto me,
concern filled her face. Afraid, she then turned to baba, who looked scared as well.
“Sure, beta.
Let’s go,” he said, smiling to mother.
What
have I done? I lost their trust. Will they ever be confident of me again?
Three of us walked quietly, my parents
stealing glances at me, regularly. I was
conscious about being supervised; I felt betrayed. It hurt more than the
bruises. You brought this upon yourself.
“One more week, hopefully, and you’ll be
like before,” maa said, noting me
looking at my wounds. And after that? What
will I do?
Going to temples every morning, evening walks
with maa became a daily routine; I was
getting frustrated with the constant vigilance. Finally, I got a chance to get
away from all this though maa made
sure I was not alone.
Srishti
was walking beside me, humming a tune and her finger combing her hair. I looked
at her, she smiled.
“I know I made a terrible mistake,” I started
and was her getting attentive as if she was waiting for this moment, “but why is
everyone behaving so protective.”
“You don’t have the slightest idea of what
we’ve been through, especially your father,” she said firmly, but without a
hint of anger. I know that, all I’m
asking for is a one more chance
“I’m glad you’ve realized your mistake,”
she smiled, slightly touching my arm, “and I know that those 2 months have put
some sense in you. But you’re parents need some more time to be sure. They’ve
been through hell.”
Maa was standing at
the door; a smile overcame her pensive expressions looking at me. I’ve been out
for nearly four hours.
“I had dinner with Srishti, maa,” I said with an intentional
cheerfulness. I’ll have to make
amendments right from now
Today, after one year and two months, I’m
working in a small firm, earning a decent salary. After that day, I came across
an NGO during an anti-suicide campaign. I joined them as a volunteer and eventually
became the representative for my city.
I often wonder why life felt so difficult
then, not that I’m doing the best, but I’m happy and that’s what is making difference,
perhaps.
But one thing that I still couldn’t change
is the relationship between me and Srishti, we were still friends. I would propose her one day, for sure.
Looking at the events turning up for me
since I’ve decided to correct myself, I understood that life doesn’t change
overnight; you have to work each day to make it better - little today and a
little tomorrow. When you finally look back at the road you took up, you’ll say
to yourself, How far I’ve come!!!
