Sector 9 Hospital

Drip! Drip! Drip!

Ran through his veins.

Some medications followed,

Some injections were given.

He was lying still

In front of my eyes.

I was 11 then,

I was not prepared for the loss.

I was waiting for him

To tell me stories

About his childhood

And my father’s notorious deeds.

But then,

I was sitting next to him

For feeding him

While piercing a needle into his drip.

He was lying,

On an isolated bed

Of a ward in Sector 9 hospital.

When I pierced the needle,

My hands were shaking,

My eyes were full of tears,

And then, I started sobbing.

I was not ready for his loss

But I was praying hard

For his peace.

I was not in a position to accept his death

I was only 11 then…

But somewhere, deep down, I was knowing,

I would lose him.

Maybe I had to choose in between:

Seeing him suffering in pain

Or letting him go.

Eventually, I had to choose the latter

For it was him who was suffering

For it was him whom I never wanted to see in pain…

Ah! Unfortunately,

I had to let him go

I had to pray for his peace:

The ultimate peace:

His death...