By Devananda Edamadathil
1st January 2021.
My heart aches when I think of this day.
The tether of a turning point.
There was no death, no loss, no illness, and no failure—just an eventful few hours that kept my tears on standby. But it still feels as sharp as a needle that pierces through everything around it.
It was the first day of the year. But it lost its glory to the prominence of the events that were to follow. It was my last day at home.
I left home that year to begin high school in India. I had to stay in a hostel. This was the third vacation of the year, each break lasting a week.
A week.
A week with my family.
Every second of it counted. Time mattered more than ever. Every morning, I cherished the moment when I woke up to see the walls of my house, my sister lying next to me. Mornings were a reassurance that I was where I belonged, where I was safe. I felt the joy of being home every moment, even though I knew that each day brought me closer to the end of our reunion.
Just like all other precious things, you never know the importance of time until it’s lost.
Sunsets weren’t beautiful; they declared the imminent end of the day. My heart would start pounding, a terrible feeling would creep up in my stomach, and I feared the moment when I would have to bid adieu.
My mom asked me to live in the moment and not to fear what lies ahead. Her words didn’t lift my spirits. I knew she must have been dreading sending me away.
This was a new lesson for me. When a tragedy hits, you fall; you break down. And then you get up, you move on, and you start living again. I think that’s better, better than foreseeing the pain and living every day in fear of what is to come. Every moment becomes a warning sign. Not to be too happy, or you won’t be able to handle what’s lying ahead. It’s terrible to be caught up in something like that. So I would never choose to foresee the future, because now I know. I know what it feels like. To know that you will have to let go, even if it’s for your good.
It is a blessing when every day becomes a surprise. You don’t know what’s coming, good or bad. Uncertainty makes life exciting. It makes you wake up and move ahead. When people foresee only fearsome, terrible things, they lose hope and give up, or they spend every second in fear. They stop living. When people find only happiness, they become satiated. They stop working. They lose aim; they lose interest. They unknowingly stop living.
The plain horror of it all shook me. My home became a vacation site. All my things were becoming a luxury, and they weren’t sold for money; they were sold for time.
Time.
Time. Time
My parents, my sister, my home, my room, my bed, my things, it all became a luxury, which I could only afford for a week.
We spent New Year at Downtown, watching the fireworks at the Dubai Frame. It was the last best moment of the year. We returned home at around one in the morning. I had to leave the next day. The flight was at two in the afternoon. I didn’t want to waste any time I had left. I sat on the sofa in the hall. I refused to go to bed, afraid that when I opened my eyes in the morning, all the precious nighttime would have been spent sleeping.
My mom didn’t want me to be drowsy and tired the next morning, as I had to board my flight and continue my journey, and I would be on my own.
I protested, but she won. I asked my mom to wake me up at 6:00 AM. My mom agreed to do so and tugged me to bed, beside my sister, with whom I always slept. My mom then asked me if I wanted her to sleep next to me. Dismayed, I said no.
As expected, I woke up late. Around 9:30 in the morning. I was frustrated and began to sob. A bath, breakfast, and a final check would deplete the remaining hours of comfort. I wept and marched to the kitchen. I sat, watching my mom make pooris. I confronted her for not waking me up early, as was planned. Ma explained that I needed to rest and that I was tired. I was not ready to take anything. I sat there, weeping. I told her how insignificant my time was to her. She remained silent. She was tearing up too, but I was too restless to attend to her.
We left for the airport two hours earlier than the scheduled departure time. We were at the airport, where I had lunch. I had to use the restroom and went with my sister. In the cubicle, I thought about it all. How my beautiful time with my family was coming to a sad conclusion. How I had to pass the grueling months before I could see them all again. The sight of my sister waiting outside gave me a full retrospect. I would have to start my journey without looking back. I would lose it all. Waking up beside her, her hair over my face. Her warmth. Her presence. Her. It was over. I had to face it.
I got out and walked to my parents. It was time. Time to go. I carried my bag and walked to the gate with them. I stopped when I knew that from that point onwards, I would be walking alone. I hugged my father, and then my sister. My sister was weeping. I hugged her tightly, kissed her on her forehead, and told her how much I loved her. Then I hugged my mother, as tight as I could. I felt her warmth, the warmth that had been there all along; maybe I never appreciated it enough. But that moment, it was golden. I couldn’t let go, but she gave way. She was in tears too. I told her that her prawn biryani was the best, and no force shall ever recreate something so delectable that I would return soon to have more. Then I walked past the gate.
We were now on opposite sides. I wanted to devour a last look, to see them waving goodbye. A lot of things were coming into focus at once. The brilliance of the pink ribbon adorning my sister's dress. Her curls lay tangled against her shoulder. I wanted to fill my mind with all their memories. Just them.
My heart wrenched as I waved back. With a deep breath, I turned and walked away.
By Devananda Edamadathil
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