Dear Father

A silver Tucson stopped by a rough road. Sonam appeared out of it with a song on his lips and smile on his face. However, he all of a sudden stopped whistling his favourite song Nga Doeba.

The surrounding was more than silent. The wind was cold and still. The leaves didn’t rustle. The flowers of the undergrowth which brings smile as he treads by were shrunk and bent. Birds perched on the branches of tall trees were lifeless.

This was uncommon. He felt like the surrounding was mourning deeply. A heavy and odd feeling drifted into his feeling. His grip on his laptop bag grew firmer and a bit shaky too.

“Oh no!” he said and ran up the well trodden path.

There was his younger sister Pema sat on the wooden stair outside in front of their hut, holding herself and weeping with shut lips. Tears rapidly dripped down her shaky chin. Her chest heaved and fell fast and irregularly.

Sonam couldn’t approach her. How could he? His knees were giving way to helplessness. He fell down on his knees. Laptop fell aside with huge crash but all he heard was silence and a heavy dark emptiness filled his thought.

Sometime later when he recollected his conscience, Pema was shoving him like he too was dying.

He felt shameful about himself who couldn’t even console his own sister.

“Please brother, hold your feeling,” Pema pleaded like begging for life being taken out of her. “Our father is dead. If you stay like this, I will be left alone.”

He wiped his tear off, rubbed his eyes and propped himself up to stand. He tried to wet his dry throat but couldn’t. Pema was expectantly looking at him. He smiled but didn’t look at her for he will suffer relapse. His right hand held her and they, with temporarily suppressed sadness, entered their father’s room.

The room has lost his warmth and glow. The floor creaked under the strain of their weight and gloom.

Father was dead before his cared alter. He had died peacefully that his face still emanated. Pema at knelt at his left and Sonam at this right. As they looked at him, it made them wish he was alive. Though it was painful to watch him, it was their last time to see him. The area witnessed the bond between father and children it had never witnessed. As if the world knew it, the evening sun lent its crimson light and filled the room.

Then they rose and prepared all the butter lamps they had. As the sun receded behind the still giants, the lights from the butter lamps replaced the crimson light and the prayers for their dear father reverberated the room. 

ILiveLove