Sunday, November 3, 2024

The Closure (1269 words)

It is more than a decade since I left my home in anger with a vow never to return. It was a difficult decision and as an emotional young boy, I did what I thought was right. I had neither contacted my dad nor let him know my whereabouts. The years that flew did little to soften my anger towards my old man.

But now, by some strange twist of fate, I find myself on a train heading back to my village near Kumbakonam. I feel a strange mix of unease and tension inside me. As the train chugged along with intermittent long whistles, I could see green fields with crops nearly grown on either side and canals of water alongside the fields. They did little to lift my low spirit. As memories of my village gushed through my mind, a pang of guilt arose in me.

I am the only child born to my parents in their early forties. My mother passed away when I was a young kid and it was my father who brought me up single handed refusing to marry again. He was a highly principled man and known for his short temper. After my mom’s demise, he did not mingle much with the neighbours who were all part of the clan or extended family. He became a loner seeking no help from others. His world was small and revolved around me. 

All the boys and girls of the village studied in schools at Kumbakonam and usually walked the long distance except for two girls who went in bullock carts. I remember even running behind the carts on a few occasions to be in time for school. Ramu of my age who lived in the adjacent house was my best pal. He was a cheerful, mischievous boy, though I sensed a growing jealousy in him.

 I suspect his resentment towards me could be on two counts. I scored more marks than him and this displeased him as his dad always compared his performance with mine. The bigger reason is one day as we were running behind the bullock cart, it started raining. Both the girls called in chorus “Saranga, come in, before you get drenched.” Though I wished to, I did not get into the cart as Ramu was not invited.  We both walked in the rain, but I could tell that Ramu never forgot the slight.

A month later around 7 pm, when I was saying prayers with dad, Ramu’s father barged into our house in an agitated mood with Ramu behind him. Even before we got up from prayers, Ramu’s dad said “Anna (elder brother), Ramu tells me that Sarangan has stolen his new geometry box. It seems they were studying together in the evening at my house and the box is missing ever since. This is a petty loss to me but I wished to warn you lest it became a habit with him.”

My father turned towards me, his face stern and asked” Is it true? Did you steal his geometry box? I want the truth.”

“No, appa, I said startled by the accusation. Why would I steal when I have already one? He must have misplaced it.”

Ramu, intervened, “No, uncle. We studied together using the instrument box and when we finished, I went to the kitchen to have some water. When I came back, Sarangan was waiting at the front door to leave. I noticed only later the box was missing from the table. None else had come to the house. It does not matter but my father insisted that I come along with him,” said Ramu.

When Ramu’s father and Ramu looked at me accusingly, I stood dazed by the wrong accusation. My father became wild in rage and started beating me and yelling, “Have I wasted all my life on this wretch only for him to become a petty thief? I have lost all my honour this day. I neither wish to set my eyes anymore on this thief nor will I permit him to stay here. “

He grabbed my hand, dragged me towards the front door and pushed me out. “Never set your foot again here. You are dead as far as I am concerned, “he screamed and closed the door in uncontrollable anger.

That night, I lay on the front porch outside until dawn shivering from the cold and cringing in shame at being falsely accused.

Woken up from my reverie, as the train screeched to a stop at a small station, I looked out. One urchin proffered a tender coconut with a straw inside. I gulped the entire content hoping the bitterness inside would be washed away to some extent. My thoughts drifted back towards my father. I was bitter all these years that he would rather trust Ramu and his dad than me, his own son, and condemn me to be a thief.

 But the chance meeting with a penitent Ramu three days back at a mall in Singapore and the news from him of the happenings in the village after my running away filled me with endless remorse for my insensitive behaviour towards my father.

It seemed that after I left the village, my father was crestfallen refusing to take food or even take care of himself and the lands. He was always repentant of his rash behaviour towards me when he learnt that Ramu had confided to his dad that the geometry box was safe with him and was never stolen at all. Ramu’s father put the entire blame on himself for the turn of events. All their efforts to trace me were in vain.

 From then on, he started taking care of my dad as if it was his responsibility. Afflicted by the loss of his only son, my dad became a recluse and psychologically affected. He would it seems address all boys as Saranga and talk incoherently. For the last three years, he has been acutely afflicted by Alzheimer's and utters only my name.

Ramu urged me to leave for the village immediately to meet my dad before it was too late. The train now seemed to move at a snail’s pace with my anxiety increasing in inverse proportion.

I jumped into a taxi at Kumbakonam station urging the driver to take me speedily to my village. The door was ajar. I ran inside shouting “Appa, I have come, your Sarangan. Do you recognize me? “I cried with tears swelling in my eyes as my father, frail and sick, was lying on the bed.

 Ramu’s father was there. He put his arms around me and comforted me saying “Please wait. Let us see whether he recognizes you.”

Initially, my father was looking at me blankly and soon his eyes fluttered open widely. I saw a glimmer in his eyes before he touched my cheeks to say “ Happy, my Sarangan has come. My god has at last heard my prayers. "

I hugged him tightly sobbing “Appa, forgive this wretch. I was an egoistic fool and failed you when you needed me most. Please say once that you have forgiven me”.”

Instead, his eyes grew distant and stared vacantly past me showing no sign of recognition. Ramu’s father ran outside and in a few minutes returned with a doctor only to find the finally happy soul had flown away. 

Ramu’s dad drew me towards him and let my head rest on his shoulders. He waited patiently as I cried inconsolably and comforted me when I regained composure saying, “Do not grieve, Saranga. Anna has finally found his peace."

 

14 comments:

  1. One moment of anger. Life long regret. Regards - Mahesh

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  2. Sometimes we focus only on our own emotions, sentiments and hardships, and we fail to see and understand what people in our circle are going through.

    Also , Parenting is not about harsh disciplining alone. It should be based on trust and support too

    Chitra

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  3. Very poignant story. You have conveyed the emotions so beautifully

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  4. Reunion and separation in quick succession. Atleast the father died happy

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  5. Aah, now why did I expect this end only?
    Still it was a gripping story.
    Thank you so much for sharing this.

    Best wishes and warm regards
    Hemantha Kumar Pamarthy

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  6. A touching story. As always loved the narration. Parenting is more than being regimental. In earlier times, the relationship between Dad & children was more of fear arising from respect. With time, even Dads' have changed and are more supportive and friendly.

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  7. Very touching.ramakrishnan.

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  8. A very poignant story. The narration was so beautiful, clearly describing the emotions each one felt. Feel very sad that a few angry words spoken in haste ended up losing the relationship for many years for both of them.
    Lakshmi Srinivasan

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  9. Very sad story. How words matter! 😥😥😥

    Srikanth

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  10. Ramu's silly mistake caused the seperation .Sarangan refused Bullock cart ride because Ramu was not invited .

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  11. Making accusations without solid proof seems to be the main issue here. We cannot blame either the father or the son.

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  12. A tale lovingly told on penance and deliverance for two boyhood friends and their fathers.

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  13. Rama Sampath Kumar: Very like most parents of our generation- they tend to believe friends and relatives about the behaviour of their own kids rather than the words of the kids. Family image and what. Others think probably mattered a great deal. There is a great change in the current culture… we tend to believe our own kids even if there is some truth in what a friend points out Strange are the ways we react … the short story is a real pointer not to be rash in judgement. Like it.

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