The dilemma of a son
The end is the beginning.
I was waiting impatiently amid the cacophony of passersby, carrying a bag pack and luggage in front of me. The vendors roamed around trying to grab the attention of their customers. The bus stand was thronged by the waiting passengers.
Despite all the incoherent noise and chitter-chatters around, there was a dead, deep silence in my mind. A tumultuous question was disrupting the calm every now and then. A profound dilemma was pinching like a needle that required immediate attention.
Once the wave of time is gone, nothing will be left. Like a person rushing to the platform hoping to find his train which was supposed to have gone a minute ago. My heart was dancing to that beat.
My whole life was playing on the screen of my mind: my childhood, my teenage,my adulthood. Everything had come down to this very moment.
Brakes pumped, tyres screeched and a rickety bus came to a halt at the bus stand. People hustled their way into the bus , nudging and pushing one another in a bid to secure a seat.
My body and soul were in two different dimensions- one had no control over the other. When my brain urged me to act , my soul wanted some rest — rest from brooding for days, rest from ignoring my parents for long, rest from being ungrateful to my parents for every sacrifice they made to see their child excel in life.
Now that I had succeeded in landing a decent job , I was moving on with my life to a distant city- without them. My life would be awesome there- full of fun, adventure and joy!
What about my parents?
They are too old to take care of themselves. My mother , her vision is getting blurred and she complains of incessant pain in legs and hands. She cannot walk without limping and groaning out of pain. She used to be a natural dancer and her skin glowed like a glassy surface. Now, all wrinkled. Earlier, she used to complain about it to me. No longer.
My father doesn’t speak much. He is indifferent to everything so long as he is getting his meal on time. He is like a neutral character in a story. I like him for his hard work. He never cuddled and embraced my emotional child self who still craves for love and care. Though he supported me financially at every stage of life.
They need me more than ever. That goes unsaid. I know they will never ask me to wipe their tears. Their last goodbye hid a lot of anguish wrapped carefully in the cloak of a smile. Yet they smiled for their piece of heart just as my mother always did. A father may love his child with all his heart, a mother’s love is something else- unconditional and unscathed.
It was taking me forever to stand up as the bus driver honked for the last minute bid. I shook myself up in a hurry, lifted my luggage and hurried away from the honking fading into distant air.
