After the Rain

Dark clouds reigned in the sky, looming after the torrential rain. The roads were washed, reflecting off light from the street lamps. The lights formed a mosaic like pattern, spinning shades of hope and mirth and then fading as one took a step forward, each step revealing a fresh mirage. It was a long empty stretch of road, no traffic, no late evening walkers, nobody save the silhouette of a walker and a lone dog in the street, sniffing at some filth, looking for food. His head was bent, shoulders drooping, hands gently swaying to each side, brooding. He glanced a quick look at the dog but did not think of its misery. The dog in turn looked at him, found no solace, and returned sadly to the pile of rubbish, letting out a small whine. All else was silent. The wind was silent, the trees did not sigh.

As his brisk pace showed him the varying mosaic of light patterns, he reflected for a moment on his own existence. Insignificant. Lonely. Parched. Longing for things he would never have. He had always lived this way. Never being really noticed. Never paid any significant attention. He had a job that did not pay well, a boss who did not like him, and colleagues he could never relate to. His mother had always told him to go high in life, to do things his dreams showed him, and to be someone who would go down in the pages of history as someone significant. The void inside him yawned. He had failed her. He had failed himself.

His thoughts returned to the purpose of his visit. It was his mother’s death anniversary. He was headed towards her grave, his heart heavy and his eyes teary. Thinking about her always had this effect on him. He would start to blame himself for everything that had ever happened. His mother had died of heart attack and old age, though he never stopped blaming himself for it. She died because I was a failure, he kept telling himself and the more he thought about it, the wider the void became. He had long since become dead to emotions, dead to beauty and dead to all the joy the world had to give. The only thing he ever felt was remorse and a pang of longing for his dead mother and things he could not achieve. Often during the evening he would sit outside in the small balcony of his one room apartment and stare outside. He would see and imagine worlds of happiness, of people and warmth. Even of love. And then he would find emptiness staring him in the face and he would turn away, loathing himself more than ever.

He never carried flowers to her grave. She had been someone who was very specific about everything. He never really knew what flowers she liked and which ones she did not. Hence he never carried them. He did not want to offend her by bringing her flowers she had hated in her life. As such, had he not tormented her more than enough? He would just go and stand near her grave, silently looking at the gravestone, remembering the days of the past, smiling to himself while tears filled his eyes. He preferred going late in the evening, when the chances of running into people were low. He had always been uncomfortable with people. More so because he could not understand them and he could never relate to what they were saying. Often at the cemetery he ran into someone or the other who would look at him and give him an understanding nod. He would get uncomfortable. What were they nodding at? What did they know? What the hell was it to them anyway?

He crossed the cemetery gate, head still bent, silently navigating his way through the graves on either side. It was quiet. The rain drops hanging from the trees and the clouds gave the place an ominous feel, more than always. He walked till he reached the spot and stood there, head still bent, hands entwined almost in prayer, though he was not praying. He then let loose everything that was locked inside him. He spoke out to his dead mother, apologizing and talking and blabbering. All this time, silent as his mind worked feverishly in telling his mother everything. He told her of how sorry he was and that he would try and take control of his life and do something grand. Slowly his mind grew quieter and he lifted his head slightly. He felt slightly comforted in having made his peace with her. He knew she would forgive him, someday. A gentle smiled played on his lips as tears started to fill his eyes.

He stood there for some more time, his mind at ease now. He stopped thinking about things. He turned around, planning to go. That is when he saw that he was not alone. She was standing near another grave, crying silently. She was dressed in white and held a single red rose in her hand. For the moment she was looking down, yet he could see the tears clearly. She was clutching at the rose, and then she bent to place it near the grave. Then when she rose again, he saw her give a violent sob. Her entire frame shook with the weight of her grief and then she looked straight at him. He was embarrassed. He quickly gave her a nod and briskly walked away. It was only after he was slightly away from her that he stopped for a moment to realize what he had done. It was then he realized that things would change. He would change them. And it would start tonight.

- Parekh, Pravesh

01:40 AM, 16^th June, 2013