By Het Pandya
1:05 AM…I guess it’s Iskcon Cross Road. Normally, the crowd would be bustling over there.
Eerily quiet today. Cold. December it is. One of my earbuds has stopped working—it’s been
a while, I think. Disconcerting feeling. I finds it symbolic that how things break easily in my
life or maybe I’m overthinking, I’m an professional overthinker. I’ve always preferred the
wired ones; I used mine for three years, which were already used by Chachu for six years
before me. The bus lights are buzzing my disjoint thoughts. We’ve now left Ahmedabad.
“Remember the last time?” I asked myself and replied too, “Don’t you dare… You like it,
don’t you? Tormenting yourself!”
4:30 PM, A lazy Sunday afternoon. I’d just had lunch—Abysmal. While browsing YouTube, I
stumbled upon an essay video on LOTR. Being unemployed and restless time wasn’t
precious, I had to waste on something …
A notification popped up. It was a friend of mine. Earlier, we had been arguing about whose
fault it was that we’d grown apart. I gave up. I know it was me. Lately, I’ve grown distant
from a lot even from myself…. So maybe…It’s not them, really—it’s just me…
Suddenly, Dadi was calling me now. I felt no intention of answering, honestly. I was feeling
weary.
“Hello, Dadi, I—”
“Beta… your father’s not well!” she cracked .
2:30 PM…I had packed almost everything. I’d been home for a month, on Diwali holidays,
and thought, It’s still a week until exams; I should go to Chachu’s—it’s been a while….
“Why are you packed?” Papa raised an eyebrow .
“I’m going to Jamnagar. Told you yesterday…”
“But what’s the hurry? Take the 7 PM bus… Night travels are easier.”
“Not at all, Papa. I want to reach as early as possible.”
Papa dropped me at the bus stand. I bid farewell….
“Mahadev!”.
“Dadi, first of all, stop crying and tell me what happened. I can’t hear you.”
“He was… sleeping… chest pain… hardly breathing…”
“Where is he now?”
“Your mother and Chachu took him to the government hospital…” she sobbed…
“Why the hell did they take him to a government hospital? There are so many good private
ones!” I couldn’t help over my sharp voice yelling at the old lady...
“There was no option… It’s Sunday!”
When I reached the bus point, Parth was already there, waiting.
“Who told you, Parth?” I asked.
“I called him. I thought you’d need him,” Manthan replied.
Hugged Parth very tightly…I just wanted to escape the reality…. “ I don’t know What’s
happening to my father….”
The phone rang, it was Chachu.
“Chachu, is Dad alright?! I beg you to tell me the truth—don’t just lie to me.”
“Happy, Give the call to Parth.”
Parth came back..he looked…perplexed maybe at the moment…“I’m coming with you guys.
Chachu has booked a cab for us.”
“Hey, you stop with the lies...Did Chachu say anything else…how’s Dad? Please…”
“Nothing…Your dad is…fine…yeah…Just… we have to go...” he insisted…but a sudden
paleness found in his face…as if…
It’s been idk how many hours since I boarded the bus, it’s jarring but my mind’s elsewhere. I
buried my eyes in my phone, pretending to watch a football match—midnight matches are
my escape. I realised the lights had turned blue just after I was complaining about the
buzzing. It’s cold—cold. But I think it’s not just the weather. I am cold. I am blue. A chilling
breeze of air whispering on my neck, but my whole attention is heeded in the match—or I’m
just too lazy to even close the window... Everyone’s asleep. Some uncle is snoring right
behind me. No one is annoyed by it—maybe because everyone’s asleep. Or maybe I’m just
a complaining brat.
As I finally gathered my whole strength to close the window, I caught sight of a light flickering
on a distant hill. It was faint, almost surreal. A chill ran through me, deeper than the cold
wind….
The cab was speeding at 80–85. Maybe the driver knew the gravity of the situation—or
maybe it was because he was already an hour late picking us up. The temperature in the car
was low, but I was sweating anxiously. My heartbeats were racing, and since we boarded
the cab, there was a known niche silence. I started calling whoever I thought might have to
do anything with this...I was scared to call Chachu or Mom—they were already handling the
harder part…So, I just called my dad’s friends.
“Uncle, no one’s being honest with me...You tell me. Is he…” I cried…(please don’t answer
me, dont)
“Relax, bitu. He’s…yeah…alright. We’re taking him to another hospital. Now you come to
Gondal… safely.”
The phone dropped…leaving me suspended in uncertainty.
My mind sped up, calculating the answers of every friend of Dad I called. All their answers
were… intriguing. They were telling similar stories, but… it didn’t feel real.
Just then, out of the car’s window, I saw a flickering light far away… on the hill. I sighed in
relief. Chotila...
Chotila is the holy place of our family’s goddess. My dad’s unwavering faith always baffled
me. I was always the spoiled child, asking questions about gods and beliefs…
“Shhh… How dare you ask that? Do you have no shame?”
Today, I started chanting the prayer of the deity…
“Holy Goddess, I know I am not a person who has any right to ask favours… but look at my
dad. Please help the poor man…”
Just then, I realized Manthan was chanting prayers too. I was stunned. Of course, he loves
his uncle, but I never knew he even believed in God. If times were different, I’d have joked
about this. But I just focused on my prayers…
As we neared Chotila, the flickering lights increased, and so did my hope. I thought It was
the way God telling me… It’s going to be fine.
Today again, the number of flickering lights increased. The bus lights turned on, and the
conductor yelled, “Chotila!”
A significant number of people emptied the bus. A man without a seat, who was sleeping on
the floor, now got up and l” slept across two seats. I didn’t know how to react. I cried the last
time I passed this place.
Should I complain to the goddess? Maybe it wasn’t her fault. But then, whom should I
complain to? My dad believed that God controls our lives.
Maybe, after all, I have the right to complain. I chose not to. We’re a race of humans, after
all. Cowards.
I couldn’t control myself anymore. I cried as much as I could. I tried to sleep, but the road
seemed endless. I called Chachu and Mom simultaneously. No one answered. My soul was
scared. It felt like fear was eating me alive.
Suddenly, I saw through the window… my dad’s favorite restaurant passed by. With that, the
door to millions of memories swung open…
My childhood. I was a scared little boy, shy and introverted. My dad’s arms were my safe
place. His shoulders were my premium seat for any journey. I remembered our first home, a
tiny one—my dad and I playing cricket with a plastic bat and ball. As I grew up, his
expectations grew with me. I always scored second; he wanted me to be first. As I grew
older, we argued about everything—cricket, politics, even the nature of the world. I unlocked
my phone and opened WhatsApp. I scrolled down and found a video he’d sent me that very
day. It was about father-son relationships. My father had a habit of sending me every piece
of news or video he liked on WhatsApp. I never opened them. For the first time in my life, I
felt like texting him something…..
As the car entered Gondal, a strange sensation passed through me. It was almost
transcendent. It felt like a message vibrating inside me. It was cold, plain, and sad.
For the first time, I felt like I’d entered a foreign town. The same town where I’d lived for 22
years suddenly felt like it wasn’t waiting for me.
“The wait” that longed for me was nowhere to be seen now.
As the car turned into my street, my heart fell. My legs felt weak. My body turned cold. My
fingers went numb. My eyes saw familiar faces, but they felt like strangers. My
consciousness grasped what had happened.
Why the wait that longed for me… was nowhere to be found…
By Het Pandya
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