Non-erotic The Scarface I Hated by Trambak

[Ramesh_Rocky]

In a short while both came out. The man went near my mother and said in a gentle voice, "Mrs Indranath. Do you recognize any of them? You can tell me. I am the magistrate."

My mother looked at him and then me.

She said in a clear but subdued voice, "I recognize Dr Indranath, my husband. The other two are the parents of this baby girl."

Then she staggered and fell. Everyone rushed to help but she got up on her own and asked the magistrate, "Can I see him once more?"

Chapter-23

As if hit by a rock I stood crushed beneath the emotional might of this incredible woman, a frail woman. And I was equally affected by her offspring, narrating the death of his father as if it was about someone else. This man also happened to be my husband, my friend, and my confidant.

Only Kiana was capable of such an act. On the face of such tragedy, only she could have stood her ground. And she did. I looked at Imran and he looked the other side. All three of us were afflicted with a similar malady. Catharsis by way of lamentation was not our way. We preferred to internalise our sorrows howsoever brutal they were.

I suddenly felt that it was a weakness, not strength.

I tried to figure out Imran's mind. All this while, he had been trying to make me comfortable while hiding within him a grief as large as a mountain. Would it have been possible for me to vocalise such trauma, such torment? I doubt that very much. I had never seen my parents, therefore I never lost them. They just weren't there for me. But for a child of barely six years, to be pulled out of the bed on a cruelly cold night and confronted with a tragedy of such magnitude was a punishment that nothing could measure up to.

I wished that Imran would refrain from speaking further. I wanted him to desist from suffering anymore and his penchant for flogging himself. No, I was not interested in his story anymore. People who were gone were not my concern. The man I was with needed the comfort, the alleviation of pain. He was my priority!

The stars were still brilliantly lit; the fireflies were still swirling around but our minds had become dull with pain. Possibly, Imran could comprehend that and whispered looking towards the sky, "Meher, there is no end to stories in real life. It continues till the life ends. There is still time and I may not have the courage to say it again. I must finish this today."

I moved near him and put my head on his shoulders, hoping it would give him the strength to go on. He turned his face and nuzzled his nose on mine and said hoarsely, "Thank you."

I held him a wee bit stronger.

"We returned back around five in the morning just as the dawn was breaking. It was a morning darker than the night. The redness on the horizon offered us no console. For us, there was no pain, no fear, no assurance, and no expectation. Maa got me ready for the college and then decided against it. And yes, she insisted that the baby is brought back. The security officerwoman hinted that she was ready to take custody of the child but my mother refused. The girl was still not crying but looking around, probably for her mother!

For the next 3-4 hours, Maa just kept on sitting. For us, there was nothing to do. People started coming in by 10. A lot of people, of different types! Government officials, security officer, neighbours and so on. Mother remained busy with them. They had a lot of questions. There was a palpable unease. We two remained in-house, closeted in a corner. No one spoke to us except one family who brought in some food and milk. Mother refused to have anything. After some time people with cameras and tape recorders came. The journalists asked questions. A few of them knew my father well. Some of them were aggressive but some were humane.

Everyone had their own agenda. Once that was fulfilled they simply left.

Colleagues of my father and the Principal of the college came in the afternoon. The Principal was a matured person and looked completely shocked. He spoke to my mother very kindly and from his body language, it was clear that he was in actual grief. For the first time, I found my mother sobbing. The teachers were a great source of support. The Principal, at once asked the journalists and the others to leave. No one dared to protest. His personality was such. He arranged food for us and assured us that he will be speaking to all concerned and get to the bottom of everything.