The sound of deep humming and melodious notes broke through the silence of the early-morning. Ashok slowly woke up trying to get his body to match his mind which had never gone to sleep. He looked around the dark room trying to place his whereabouts. As things came to a clarity, he realised that he was back in the small upstairs room that he had occupied three years ago. Things still looked the same as he had left it.
The ceremony had gone well yesterday. Much much better than he had expected it. There was so much crowd that it became an issue with parking in the silent by-lanes of their neighborhood. So many had come to pay their last respects to someone he had thought was a socially reserved and lonely man. What was the word that he had heard his father call himself? Socially challenged, yes, that was the word that he used to describe himself. A small wry smile came up on his face and disappeared even more quickly.
He walked down the staircase slowly, carefully feeling for the steps that he had run across, stumbled upon, at one point even crawled upon, trying to relearn past memories. He bent down to see if there was formidable company in the living room, which he had been trying to avoid for the past two days. It was empty. There had been an endless run of distant, not so distant relatives. The origin of many of these were unknown to him and he wanted it to remain that way.He just wondered where all of these people were for the past 3 years.
He nestled into the rickety easy-chair that had been thoroughly worn out by usage by his dad over the years. He still remembered when it had first been bought and the first time his dad sat in it. A faded memory. His father had always been a hands-off dad. Aloof. Caring but aloof nevertheless. He wasn't the sort of person who would take him on his lap and play with him. He would be there to rush him to the doctor in the middle of the night when he got an asthma attack. He was the guy who stood in the cold early morning to grab the newspaper for his results. He wasn't there for his birthday parties but left him the costly pen that he had been wanting for by his bedside.
The bond that had held them together and functioning as a family had been his mom. She ensured that the blows werent hard and at the same time ensured that the parental control never got diluted. She had been a buffer, a glue that held both the men in the family together and co-habiting. She had been a wonderful person. Then she died.
A heart attack out of nowhere took his mom away. There were rumors that his father's drink drove her to the point where her heart couldnt take it anymore. That had been the end of whatever semblance of a bond that had existed between them. His college years had passed in total silence apart from the basic dialogues regarding food, shelter and money. And even then it had been kept at the bare minimum.All said and done, he had been a good provider. There had never been any want and the request for money for any of his needs, necessary or luxury had always been met.
It had been years since they had last spoke. When he had left for his job onsite there had been an awkward pause at the gate just as he was about to get into the cab waiting to whisk him off to the airport. For a second, he thought there had been a crack in the rough exterior and his dad might possibly show some emotions. Then his hand jutted out. For a handshake. Which father gives a handshake to his son? Ashok shook it and had got in the cab and left the city.
That had been years ago. He had left the house that he had grown up. His memories of his mom. His dad. And now years later he was about to do the same. Once again, packing up and leaving as though this was a deja vu moment transported from across time barriers and reliving it all once again. Only this time there was nobody standing outside the gate to send him off.
The ceremony had gone well yesterday. Much much better than he had expected it. There was so much crowd that it became an issue with parking in the silent by-lanes of their neighborhood. So many had come to pay their last respects to someone he had thought was a socially reserved and lonely man. What was the word that he had heard his father call himself? Socially challenged, yes, that was the word that he used to describe himself. A small wry smile came up on his face and disappeared even more quickly.
He walked down the staircase slowly, carefully feeling for the steps that he had run across, stumbled upon, at one point even crawled upon, trying to relearn past memories. He bent down to see if there was formidable company in the living room, which he had been trying to avoid for the past two days. It was empty. There had been an endless run of distant, not so distant relatives. The origin of many of these were unknown to him and he wanted it to remain that way.He just wondered where all of these people were for the past 3 years.
He nestled into the rickety easy-chair that had been thoroughly worn out by usage by his dad over the years. He still remembered when it had first been bought and the first time his dad sat in it. A faded memory. His father had always been a hands-off dad. Aloof. Caring but aloof nevertheless. He wasn't the sort of person who would take him on his lap and play with him. He would be there to rush him to the doctor in the middle of the night when he got an asthma attack. He was the guy who stood in the cold early morning to grab the newspaper for his results. He wasn't there for his birthday parties but left him the costly pen that he had been wanting for by his bedside.
The bond that had held them together and functioning as a family had been his mom. She ensured that the blows werent hard and at the same time ensured that the parental control never got diluted. She had been a buffer, a glue that held both the men in the family together and co-habiting. She had been a wonderful person. Then she died.
A heart attack out of nowhere took his mom away. There were rumors that his father's drink drove her to the point where her heart couldnt take it anymore. That had been the end of whatever semblance of a bond that had existed between them. His college years had passed in total silence apart from the basic dialogues regarding food, shelter and money. And even then it had been kept at the bare minimum.All said and done, he had been a good provider. There had never been any want and the request for money for any of his needs, necessary or luxury had always been met.
It had been years since they had last spoke. When he had left for his job onsite there had been an awkward pause at the gate just as he was about to get into the cab waiting to whisk him off to the airport. For a second, he thought there had been a crack in the rough exterior and his dad might possibly show some emotions. Then his hand jutted out. For a handshake. Which father gives a handshake to his son? Ashok shook it and had got in the cab and left the city.
That had been years ago. He had left the house that he had grown up. His memories of his mom. His dad. And now years later he was about to do the same. Once again, packing up and leaving as though this was a deja vu moment transported from across time barriers and reliving it all once again. Only this time there was nobody standing outside the gate to send him off.
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