A motley group of relatives had gathered in the hall, taking their respective places of mourning. Sorrow was filled to the brim and it looked to overflow from the eyes. People couldn't exchange pleasantries, at least not when there was a state of mourning. Everybody had come prepared for this solemn occasion in acute manner without even missing out on the fine print. They couldn't afford to wear a lax attitude to his funeral; even after death, he commanded the utmost respect.
Such was his stature that people obeyed his words and followed his path blindly. He was a man of influence and effluence who didn't settle for the second best in life. The news was not shocking, his demise was long due, as people said in whispers. He too was past his prime and thus longed to die a death of significance while 'you're still there', as he used to say in clamor. People had already started to murmur his biography during the ceremony. Some eulogizing him from his youth, some narrating their personal interactions, some passing down anecdotes they came to know from him and other similar other forms of drab praises added to the required amount of sulking in the environment around. However, none of this mattered to her.
She stood with folded hands, greeting the guests and thanking them for the presence at this hour. Her ears had by now become deaf to the condolences pouring in. She wanted it no more-none of those words were of any good. There was a state of anger and resentment inside, much unlike the state outside her. it was not as if her loss was any less than anybody else concerned, neither was she any less filled with remorse. But that was not enough to stop her indignation. Leaving those sorrowful faces at his son's responsibility, she shut inside, to listen herself clearly. Her anger burst into tears, incessant tears.
-"What did I possess to loose any? Why do I feel having no possession of him all this time?", she kept asking this repeatedly to the woman in the mirror. Those eyes kept searching for an answer through the naked soul but it remained numb. There was no significant presence of him in her heart. Why was it bereft of anything- either love or hatred for that person who's outside, waiting to be cremated. What has he left behind, apart from some materialistic comforts. Where is the memory of his warmth, that she valued the most.
The exhaustion of this search put her to sleep.
-"Mother, everybody has left. Wake-up,"
She stared at him, wishing to thank him for giving birth to a mother in her, but couldn't.
-"There's something..this is for you. He had asked me to hand it over to you; said it contained his valuable possessions."
She wondered what it could be. It was a wooden box of petite size. Handing it over, her son left, leaving her in the company of that box and its contents. She fiddled with it for a while, pondering over its contents. When opened, she was greeted by a letter. It was addressed to her in his writing.
"Dear,
My life has been like this box-empty. I've tried time and time over to fill it with valuable possessions wondering what would be the ultimate possession. Those attempts might have taken me to certain heights, but still the box couldn't be filled. Nothing seemed to fit in. Upon nearing the end of days, I realized that I had no count of those days. I felt hollow within even after all the achievements that was wanted.
You, was what I needed. You were there with me, but not within. You were there behind me, but not beside. You're a dutiful wife, but I couldn't make you my companion. I didn't have the courage to ask myself what wrong was committed. Every time I looked at you, it showed my failure. And this drove me further away, I couldn't accept my failure.
Your crying, ain't you? One day, trying to go far back in distant past, I stumbled upon a face. It was bathing in winter sun, blooming bright with innocence. One evening, I got hold of my nerves and asked her if she would like to walk with me till that crossing. She ended up walking for my entire life but somewhere, I turned at the crossing.
This box is the only possession I could give. Do you remember that man who spent his entire pocket money to gift bangles? It was me."
Her possessions are now safe inside the box, forever.
Such was his stature that people obeyed his words and followed his path blindly. He was a man of influence and effluence who didn't settle for the second best in life. The news was not shocking, his demise was long due, as people said in whispers. He too was past his prime and thus longed to die a death of significance while 'you're still there', as he used to say in clamor. People had already started to murmur his biography during the ceremony. Some eulogizing him from his youth, some narrating their personal interactions, some passing down anecdotes they came to know from him and other similar other forms of drab praises added to the required amount of sulking in the environment around. However, none of this mattered to her.
She stood with folded hands, greeting the guests and thanking them for the presence at this hour. Her ears had by now become deaf to the condolences pouring in. She wanted it no more-none of those words were of any good. There was a state of anger and resentment inside, much unlike the state outside her. it was not as if her loss was any less than anybody else concerned, neither was she any less filled with remorse. But that was not enough to stop her indignation. Leaving those sorrowful faces at his son's responsibility, she shut inside, to listen herself clearly. Her anger burst into tears, incessant tears.
-"What did I possess to loose any? Why do I feel having no possession of him all this time?", she kept asking this repeatedly to the woman in the mirror. Those eyes kept searching for an answer through the naked soul but it remained numb. There was no significant presence of him in her heart. Why was it bereft of anything- either love or hatred for that person who's outside, waiting to be cremated. What has he left behind, apart from some materialistic comforts. Where is the memory of his warmth, that she valued the most.
The exhaustion of this search put her to sleep.
-"Mother, everybody has left. Wake-up,"
She stared at him, wishing to thank him for giving birth to a mother in her, but couldn't.
-"There's something..this is for you. He had asked me to hand it over to you; said it contained his valuable possessions."
She wondered what it could be. It was a wooden box of petite size. Handing it over, her son left, leaving her in the company of that box and its contents. She fiddled with it for a while, pondering over its contents. When opened, she was greeted by a letter. It was addressed to her in his writing.
"Dear,
My life has been like this box-empty. I've tried time and time over to fill it with valuable possessions wondering what would be the ultimate possession. Those attempts might have taken me to certain heights, but still the box couldn't be filled. Nothing seemed to fit in. Upon nearing the end of days, I realized that I had no count of those days. I felt hollow within even after all the achievements that was wanted.
You, was what I needed. You were there with me, but not within. You were there behind me, but not beside. You're a dutiful wife, but I couldn't make you my companion. I didn't have the courage to ask myself what wrong was committed. Every time I looked at you, it showed my failure. And this drove me further away, I couldn't accept my failure.
Your crying, ain't you? One day, trying to go far back in distant past, I stumbled upon a face. It was bathing in winter sun, blooming bright with innocence. One evening, I got hold of my nerves and asked her if she would like to walk with me till that crossing. She ended up walking for my entire life but somewhere, I turned at the crossing.
This box is the only possession I could give. Do you remember that man who spent his entire pocket money to gift bangles? It was me."
Her possessions are now safe inside the box, forever.
