I lost my Achan when I was 16, more than 14 years back, in a road accident. I am the last person in our family he talked to, on phone, he said he will come a bit late. I reminded him to buy washer for the pressure cooker. Almost 15 minutes later, another call came, my Amma answered, she looked terrified. Later she told that Achan met with an accident and she called my cousin to go to the hospital to where Achan will be taken to.
After an hour or something, I called my cousin asking him how Achan is. He told everything is fine, since father has a fractured leg and is a bit unconscious, I cannot talk to him. Time flew and my Aunt (Amma's elder sister) called and told that she will come home, we waited for her. When she came, she shook her head as if everything was over. My Amma burst into tears and cried loudly, I knew what the expression from my aunt meant, but I could not believe. Did I misinterpret? No, Amma was crying; Achan is no more. I could not cry like my Amma, I don't know why. I can't think about anything; numbers and equations ran through my head.
I laid next to Amma, I could see my grandma (Amma's mother) looking sadly at us. My sister was not home, she went for her college tour. She was supposed to come that morning, my father had agreed to pick her from bus stand. I called her in phone, no one attended the call. I told someone to call her.
Next morning, my cousin came asking for Achan's photo. I didn't cry, I searched for a photo of him in the album. My sister came, I ran to her and hugged. I heard ambulance, I could see countless people at my house. My father's body was laid in the middle, we ran to him. There was a bulge in his forehead, near his eyes. He felt cold and there was some fluid near his mouth. Is that really my Achan? Yes, I asked him to wake up, he didn't. People took him to cremate, what if he is still alive and unconscious. I cried loud not to take him away. I saw the smoke, what if it was a body double, my Achan will be somewhere else and he will come back.
Days passed, Amma looked pale each day. When I walk along the road, I listen carefully to hear the sound of Achan’s motorcycle from behind. In the bus, I often dreamt about my father standing at the front door of our house waiting for me to come. Whenever someone ask about family, I usually tell that my father is abroad. Years of reluctance to accept the reality. I always fear about losing the dear ones. Even now, after 14 years, I cannot think about Achan without a tear in my eyes. Literally, my heart pains and my throat tighten.
Each time I quarrel with someone, I miss my Achan badly. I wish to reach him, I wish I disappear from here. Even today, in sleep I dream about my Achan and I going for short trips in his motorcycle. The years of losing him is almost the same as the years I lived with him. I am not sure whether this pain fade away gradually.
After an hour or something, I called my cousin asking him how Achan is. He told everything is fine, since father has a fractured leg and is a bit unconscious, I cannot talk to him. Time flew and my Aunt (Amma's elder sister) called and told that she will come home, we waited for her. When she came, she shook her head as if everything was over. My Amma burst into tears and cried loudly, I knew what the expression from my aunt meant, but I could not believe. Did I misinterpret? No, Amma was crying; Achan is no more. I could not cry like my Amma, I don't know why. I can't think about anything; numbers and equations ran through my head.
I laid next to Amma, I could see my grandma (Amma's mother) looking sadly at us. My sister was not home, she went for her college tour. She was supposed to come that morning, my father had agreed to pick her from bus stand. I called her in phone, no one attended the call. I told someone to call her.
Next morning, my cousin came asking for Achan's photo. I didn't cry, I searched for a photo of him in the album. My sister came, I ran to her and hugged. I heard ambulance, I could see countless people at my house. My father's body was laid in the middle, we ran to him. There was a bulge in his forehead, near his eyes. He felt cold and there was some fluid near his mouth. Is that really my Achan? Yes, I asked him to wake up, he didn't. People took him to cremate, what if he is still alive and unconscious. I cried loud not to take him away. I saw the smoke, what if it was a body double, my Achan will be somewhere else and he will come back.
Days passed, Amma looked pale each day. When I walk along the road, I listen carefully to hear the sound of Achan’s motorcycle from behind. In the bus, I often dreamt about my father standing at the front door of our house waiting for me to come. Whenever someone ask about family, I usually tell that my father is abroad. Years of reluctance to accept the reality. I always fear about losing the dear ones. Even now, after 14 years, I cannot think about Achan without a tear in my eyes. Literally, my heart pains and my throat tighten.
Each time I quarrel with someone, I miss my Achan badly. I wish to reach him, I wish I disappear from here. Even today, in sleep I dream about my Achan and I going for short trips in his motorcycle. The years of losing him is almost the same as the years I lived with him. I am not sure whether this pain fade away gradually.
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