Bitter Wounds

It’s been years since that incident and I’m still living with it as a part of me and my existence. The horror and the fear that I’ve lived with refuses to leave me whatsoever. Yet, I’ve come to accept the fact that what happened that particular day was my fate and I had no control over it. Those few minutes on that horrible day were the worst any 7 year old would experience ever. I pray to the Almighty above that no child in this world may ever have to go through such an ordeal.

It was just 2 days after my 7th birthday, a Saturday. I wasn’t still out of my birthday mood and rode the bicycle my parents had gifted me all day. My birthday party that year had been the grandest ever, with all my new friends in the new apartment attending it. I still remember hearing an earful from my parents when I returned home late in the evening. In order to melt them, I just smiled and kissed them. I was forgiven immediately. It was that easy as I was their only child. After having dinner, I kept myself busy solving a puzzle as Mom and Dad watched the news. It was mutually decided. I had no control over the remote at night.

Mom and Dad kept cracking jokes in between while I was engrossed in my own company. Way past my bedtime, I went to my room to prepare myself for sleep. Everything seemed pretty normal, until the ringing of that dreaded doorbell. I didn’t go to see who it was, neither did I care. I was way too sleepy to bother about it. But I heard loud voices. Voices of around 4-5 men and then I heard my Dad’s voice. Mom also spoke in between, her voice trembling with fear. The men somehow seemed more powerful than my parents as their voices overpowered theirs. The argument continued further as I made slow steps towards the main hall.

My mother stood there, her back faced towards me. I think she must have sensed me coming towards her and she held my back tightly, without turning or uttering a word. As I peeked behind her to understand the situation at hand, Dad looked at me through the corner of his eye. The mysterious men were still arguing with him, their backs facing me and I couldn’t see their faces. He communicated something to Mom through his eyes and she pushed me lightly in such a way that there was no sound. Before I could get up, a gunshot petrified me .And then, there was another one. I hid myself in a corner where I had fallen.

Luckily, or rather unluckily, the men hadn’t seen me. They hurled abuses at both my parents and kicked them to their satisfaction. Once they were convinced that both of them were dead, they banged the door and left me all alone with my misery. After they were gone, I ran towards the hall to witness both my parents lying on the ground lifeless, in a pool of blood; their eyes wide open. I tried my best to wake them up, but they refused to do so. I cried and cried all night till I fell asleep in their pool of blood with them. In the morning, I tried my best to open the door lock but my hands couldn’t reach it and there was no stool at home. I banged and kicked the door as much as I could to cry for help.

We were staying in a new building and no one except us stayed on that floor. It took me a few hours to bring people to our doorstep. The neighbours had to break the lock and barge in. On witnessing the scenario, the police was called and I was questioned for hours. Since I had no relatives, I was kept in their custody for a few days till an elderly couple from our building decided to adopt me. Even though I stayed with them, I was called by the police for questioning at regular intervals. Neither had I seen the faces of the criminals, nor did I have any idea of who they could be. One thing was clear. Robbery had never been their intention. They had come with the sole purpose of killing my parents.

The culprits were caught after a few months. One of the inmates had seen them and the police were able to track the culprits successfully. I accompanied Naresh uncle and Vandana aunty to the police station. Even though they disapproved the idea, they had to take me as I was adamant. I was too young at that time to analyse anything. But the men’s eyes showed no remorse nor regret, something I still haven’t able to forget. They were shocked when my identity was disclosed to them. Had they known, they would have killed me as well. The way they stared at me scared me. I had never seen them before. If only my parents hadn’t saved my life just moments before their death!

I always wondered for years. Why were my parents killed? What was their fault? On my 18th birthday, Vandana aunty gave me all the answers. My parents belonged to different religions. They had eloped from their respective homes for the sake of love. Probably, that was the reason we shifted from place to place every year. As a kid, when I had asked for the reason; Mom had fooled me saying Dad likes to visit new places. Both their relatives had been after their life for seven years. Mom and Dad had dodged them successfully until they were killed by my Mom’s brother and cousins.

Naresh Uncle and Vandana Aunty have given me everything; more than I think I deserve. Who would raise an orphaned child just like their own, in today’s generation? I still call them uncle and aunty, as they want me to. They have loved me and adored me selflessly, without any expectations. I owe everything to them, after my parents whom I still miss every single day. For they have given me life. Not once, but twice. And they had named me Aman, meaning peace and tranquillity. Something which my parents had desired all their lives, but got it only after their death.