Put him to Sleep

Dali, our pet dog, has been quiet for the past two days, as if he has understood that the day has finally come. Dali is grandpa's favourite.

Grandpa spends his early mornings sitting in the lawn, throwing Dali a stick or a ball to fetch, wincing a little every time, until he could throw no more.

We are out of dog food, coincidentally.

Time sucks. It sucks away the energy, happiness and strength out of our lives and leaves us behind with the burden of the memories of all the jumping and running around without a worry in the world.

Today's the day.

We get onto the car. I take the seat beside mom in the front while Dali and grandpa are slowly settling down on the back. Mom planned it so that grandpa gets to spend more time with Dali. Nobody says a word during the entire 120 minutes drive along the coast. Neither the chirping birds from the park nor the cheerful beach-goers bring us any joy today.

We're here. It's time to say the final good bye.

Dali, the cleverest, and dearest to grandpa walks to him resting his head on his lap and avoiding to look at his face. Grandpa gently strokes his head while finishing off the formalities and signing a few papers. Once the formalities are done, grandpa gets up and hugs Dali. He hugs him so tight that we feared his ribs might crack. They know that it's the last hug and they both don't mind the pain or discomfort.

The doctors assure us that the process will be painless. And we left him in their hands and walk back to the car.

Though our hearts are troubled by the loss, we are glad that at least we put him out of misery. In the car, I turn around to look at the empty seat and let a drop of tear slide down my cheek bothering not to stop it or wipe it.

Mum stops at the supermarket to get us some supplies; essentials; soft drinks; and a new flavoured food for Dali and some new toys.

Dali will have to get used to playing with us from now.

White Out

The day has finally come, after 20 years. There won't be any need to peer over the telescope to look at it anymore.

He still remembered the day they identified that one dot, brighter than the rest in the deep dark void.

For a few months every space research centre across the globe jumped on it and started sending out instruments to get a closer look, to pick the weakest radiation, to feel the mildest temperature or anything that they could read and comprehend.

He figured before the rest of the world that today will come, what path chosen for the future of this world and he hoped against all hopes that his observations and conclusions are somehow wrong. But, they weren't.

He looked up at the sky, and saw with naked eyes, the universally known secret, shared in silence only among the research organisations across the globe holding no information back from one another.

It would be only 10 more years when it will finally be the END.

He wished he didn't have to see the day the bright light is just over their head and the lives on this blessed planet becomes darkened.

Had he chosen to work in a coal mine, miles away from the surface from where he now saw the brightest demon smiling down at them, he'd have lived a few more years peacefully, completely ignorant of the shiny blade hanging overhead and he'd have only felt the pain of the tons and tons of earth that would have squeezed the life out him in the blink of an eye.

Alas, he is an astronomer and being the best one at it he had to suffer the weight of the crushing truth that the world is coming to an end.

Unlike the natural process that the human mind derived, the sun fading out, world becoming colder and eventually freezing out inn the cruel cold coal black space, though it still is a natural process, but against the imagining of men, the world was about to end by a star that followed all the physical laws men knew and so, exactly so, will crush world.

It didn't need an astronomer with excellence in the field to tell that the course of our planet could not be altered by setting sails or rowing in the reverse direction to avoid the hit. Like a murderous stone released from a catapult, hitting a bird right on the head, sitting unaware of the danger, the bright dot will wipe the lives out, but the only difference and the worst part is that we'd know it before hand and await it without hope.

All he wished now is that, may be, if it hit the brighter side of the planet at noon, at least the people on the darker side would have gone into a deep sleep not to wake up forever.

A mother in despair

[Based on a true incident*]

In the darkness, while the sea screamed warning and pushed everyone who stepped in out, I sat and watched her, a mother of two, daring the waves with her caring husband.

Having thoughtfully folded her jeans to knee level she stepped into the water, kicking and splashing all around, carefree. With both eyes fixed on her, her husband ran beside her, keeping her safe and jumping back when she playfully kicked the water, the water which is salty as though the tears of all creatures is mixed in it, towards him.

An hour went by, as she unwound herself, forgetting all about her day's hardship and the next day's challenges.

All around her people were happy, not just fake smiling like they do in their offices but laughing their heart out, grown-ups becoming kids, kids just being as kids ought to be, falling and rising to fall again in the wet sand with no injuries.

That's when she remembered.

She remembered she was not looking behind her. She had forgotten them totally and regretted being one of those careless people in the world whom she had very less regards about.

She lost them, those which she'd always loved dearly, which now she thinks she USED TO LOVE dearly.

But how? She left them there. Just beyond the reach of the cunning waves. How could the waves have crossed her, and took them away.

All the unwinding is undone. Tension kicks in as she runs around, looking at people's faces, pleading without saying a word for a clue that would help her.

But, everyone was busy having a good time. Nobody had time to look at what is happening to other's life, nobody cared about anybody's lives being torn apart.

In the darkness, she lit her phone's torch and continues her hunt, madly, not caring for anyone. People were distubed, her mind programs her eyes to see only what she lost, what she loved dearly. But, would people know what a mother's feelings are?

She carried the other one carefully, not willing to lose the only one that remains and goes running around searching.

She, accusingly, looked into the deep dark sea, hoping that the sea would be guilty and give her back what she took away. Lo! the sea is heartless, it may throw out the people, things, treasures and live creatures but only when it wills to and nobody can bend her to their own will.

People just sat there, only irritated by her continued search and were secretly, and some were openly yet quietly suggesting her to give up. It was a futile effort and they knew it, but the mother didn't.

Another thirty minutes went by when she saw it.

Oh, she was a strong one, she did't cry, she wouldn't cry. She picked up her courage and stopped looking, she knew what was lost will remain lost.

She stopped suddenly, she didn't answer her husband's questioning looks, who was worried if it was his fault all the time. Could he have been a little more careful?

She took a deep breath and the stepped away from the sea.

One step back, then two, three.... six steps back and the she started to run forward, wildly.

Running towards the sea, with all her might, anger and fury she threw the other one into the sea, hoping the sea would be just satisfied with that too, and walked barefoot to her car, caring no more for anyone or anything, wiping the sand off her hand on her red T-shirt.

...

Two hundred feet away a little girl finds a shoe, spat by the sea that she tosses back to where it came from to hear a mild splash and continues playing happily with her family.

[* and a pinch of imagination]

The Whistle!

Once, twice and three times he blinks before he could even get a blurred vision of what he is surrounded by, which is, sheer emptiness.

Rubbing the tiredness off his eyes he looks around to assure himself that which he is seeing is real.
This space is completely strange, lonely, and quiet.

It's bright but he can't see the source of light, there's no shadow to predict the direction of the source. He couldn't say if he is breathing or not. For sure, he still sees but what is there to look at?

It’s white on all sides. Is all that people see white when they go blind while others think it’s dark? But I’m not blind; I can see my body as I look down.

Sitting up on this white floor whose end is nowhere to be seen or even to be imagined to exist, he tries to remember how he ended up here.

Touching himself sends two signals to his brain, one, of his being touched by someone and the second, he touching something.

Is this real? Am I dreaming? 

He starts walking a few feet and soon collapses. He’s tired like he has been walking a desert for two days without sleep, without wat…

Wait! He remembers something. My tongue… It’s dry. I’m thirsty. I need… Wat.. Water. Water… I should drink water.

He then realizes why he was not able to call for help. His throat is too dry for him to make any sound that even he could hear.

He can’t remember when he lost consciousness. When he woke up he hoped against all hopes that he be anywhere in the world but here. He’s imprisoned in an open space with all the freedom to go anywhere but nowhere to go to.

He cried. His dry eyes could produce no tear. He wept. Like a child he wept and eventually passed out.

The taste of salt on his tongue brought him back to consciousness. He’s wet. Not just wet. No it can’t be. Am I swimming in my own tear? How could I have produced so much tear to swim in it?

His feet can’t find the floor, he is swimming, no he’s floating to be precise and suddenly a hand so strong grabs him by the collar. He hears loud whistles around him which mercilessly pierces through the loud thunderstorms.

The sound of the whistle and thunderstorm made him a blissful baby reborn after the unbearable silence of who knows how long.