The Daughter who cried
In this poignant story, Doctor Rai’s final moments are depicted in a desolate hospital ward, where his reflections on estrangement and lost love give way to a touching reunion with his past through his daughter ‘s eyes.
The hospital ward looked desolate as the fifty-five year old man returned back to his solitary bed. Doctor Rai knew his time was up, and he recalled the past, the moments spent with his estranged wife and kids, as he fell down on his bed. He felt a sharp pain in his chest and the darkness taking over, at the same time his entire life flashed by before his failing eyes, and then he saw his first born, his precious daughter, a toddler, now seen tottering away from him. He followed his daughter till he came upon this brilliant light: it started flooding all over.
The next day, his body was discovered by his caretaker’s son.
Anandaloke Hospital authorities seemed to appear as if they were really saddened by the news of the demise of one of the most brilliant doctors that the hills had ever borne. His family, who had chosen to stay away from him, was notified and they did come to attend his last funeral rites.
***
The daughter looked at her dead father, now lying shrivelled up, wrapped in white cloth… he looked as if he was asleep. She couldn’t believe that he wouldn’t wake up any longer. The dried up tears within her soul claimed their inheritance, it was back to reclaim its throne and she cried miserably for the man she both loved and hated the most.
The memories took her back to those past days of her happy childhood. Her father was young and cool and – for her the most handsome man that ever walked on the planet. She simply adored and loved him to pieces. His leather jacket, his Enfield bike and the long rides that he took his little daughter along with came down upon her like a scene revisited, like a time that had frozen and hadn’t moved on at all. She saw him smiling as he waved her goodbye to work.
She saw him favouring her over her brother and she saw him buying her whatever she wanted when she was little.
***
He was her Superman: he literally looked like the character Clark Kent with his black specs on. He was the first one who introduced her to the world of music, a little, seven-year-old, banging her head to Metallica, his favourite band, and the CDs of Aerosmith, Whitney Houston and many others that he bought for her and her brother.
Every time that late Narayan Gopal, the legendary singer, was heard singing the song, “malai na sodha kaha dukcha ghow”, she remembered her old man trying to copy his voice, especially after downing down a peg or two. The old Bollywood superstar Rajesh Khanna and her father had certain similarities, so said many who knew him.
Firstly, he resembled the handsome actor; and his daughter shared the same nickname as his daughter. And he too loved the bottle more than the reputation that he had or the family that loved him.
The only reason she hated to smoke and drink alcohol was because these were the two main reasons her father now had refused to get up at all. The mighty man lay humble in white, and there were so many words left unsaid.
Forgiveness should come at the earliest, it shouldn’t come when the human ear is deaf to all the apologies and regrets in the world. Forgiveness shouldn’t come when the ear cannot hear, nor the mouth speak, as the heart has now forgotten to beat. When you hold on to the hurt, the abuse and the pain you’re not letting go off the mess in your soul. This would tie you with a burden so heavy that your hearts won’t lighten and the road wouldn’t brighten ahead.
Learn to forgive those who have hurt you for that would ultimately set you free.
***
As she lay there with visible tears and so much more invisible ones within her soul, her father’s soul was hovering up delighted to see that at least in death, his daughter had come back home.
How he longed to hold her in his arms, how he longed to tell her he had missed her and how happy he was to see her now, looking so beautiful even in her grief. At night she lay awake on his bed; it was thundering outside, the windows were left open and she got up from the bed to shut it. As she went back to sleep, for a moment she felt his presence. She switched on the light and heard footsteps on the ceiling, she heard it faint but for sure the footsteps were heard now right on top of the ceiling. She had chosen to sleep alone on her father’s bed.
Outside that room were his brother, with his bald pate and fast asleep more of shock and grief and less of physical exhaustion. Her brother had told her: “You have to be strong Shivani, papa’s gone but he was always gone, it’s you, me and mom, we have to be strong for her.”
Her brother, Bikash, was wearing a white kurta pyjama, a white scarf wrapped over his head, the man of the house, now he was in the real sense, wonder what he must have felt before he slept and was now heard snoring by his grieving elder sister.
Shivani at first thought it was Bikash snoring outside her father’s room. Now she realised that it was the sound of footsteps right on top of the ceiling just above where she was looking at her old man’s photograph and crying softly so as not to wake up her brother or any of the neighbourhood men who were also sleeping right outside the room next to hers.
She didn’t feel scared, for she recognised the footsteps, but those sounded worried for her. In a weak but assertive voice Shivani started speaking: “It’s okay papa, let go now. I never stopped loving you, please rest now… I am fine and I will look after myself,” she spoke softly and cried when she heard the footsteps receding back. She looked at his photograph and for a second she felt as if he was smiling at her, trying to let her know that he will always be around, just in case she needed her old man. She heard the main door slam and she knew it hadn’t been open for it was she who had last locked it. She didn’t feel scared at all, for she knew this man did love her with all his heart and soul.
And now that he realised that his princess would take time to comfort her, but she wouldn’t need him to wipe her tears any longer, he silently made his exit in the same way he had done many years back after a drunken brawl at home.
Father’s shall always be special to daughters and lucky are those who get their love and support and more fortunate are those who don’t get that love, for the world shall teach them never to trust anyone and depend on themselves more.
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