Souvenir Of Memories

A squishy touch by those small charming hands brought me back from reminiscence, "Mumma, you never listen to me, see I got an award and you are not interested. I will not talk to you now" said displeased Sia as she left the room annoyed.

 

After recollecting myself back from those shattering moments that took a toll on my life in the past, I screamed within myself and moved towards the living room to soothe, hug and kiss my little doll and apologized for being unattentive.

 

This has been a regular chore of ceaselessly dragging myself in life. It's almost 10 years now since I lost my parents on that most undesirable Father's Day of 2013. I tried calling them the whole day but unfortunately I couldn't connect. Being the most mollycoddled among the three, I never ever dreamt of being away from the best buddies of my life.

 

"Beta, we are heading towards Kedarnath temple and will pray for the wellbeing of all of you there. If kedarbaba permits, we will visit it next year too together," The last words that I heard from my mom before I lost them forever.

 

Remembering, during that phase, one morning a photograph was printed on a leading daily showing the dead body of a lady, tied on a palanquin chair, lying en route Kedarnath temple. My brother, Rishab vociferated heavily "It's mum, its mum … look di …its mum. I gifted those shoes to Mumma …" and he suddenly stood unwavering. I was dumbstruck and couldn't collect enough fortitude to even catch sight of that picture. One as it will be gut-wrenching to the core and second, I still desire to live with a notion of waiting for them till eternity.

 

Visiting police headquarters and media offices to identifying belonging and pictures of dead bodies, ensuring none of the members of the troop are among them were regular course. I used to assure my, then two-year-old Sia that Nanu-Nani are just stranded in bad weather in Uttarakhand and will return soon to hug, kiss and play with their darling granddaughter. The icy controlled atmosphere was petrifying to every bit and me, praying about my parent status worst to be missing then dead.

 

Restlessness and apprehension encircled my days and nights and me regularly staring the ceiling until dawn. A single phone ring from Rishab, who was then near Gaurikund for days to discover any news about the whereabouts of them, use to twitch me from within. Rishab was moving towards Kedarnath town when his carriage suddenly stopped with a heavy jerk. Numb driver and others noticed two left-side tires touching the edge of a long trench, that was surrounded by countless corpses. Panting and puffing they returned back, leaving aside the hope of seeing even a single person alive from there in that blood-curdling ambiance.

 

My brother returned with the baggage of Mumma papa's belongings after collecting it from the hotel at Gaurikund, where they stayed last. The place from where their never returning "Pad Yatra" to holy shrine started. The most heartening keep-sake we discovered from the luggage was our family picture, which they carried all along and a small dairy, where my father was jotting down his tour experiences. A regular line which he subsumed daily in this dairy was, "My loving kids, you all are in our hearts, forever and ever, missing you all a lot".

 

Things are stuck from where I left last. The time. I laughed, giggled, loved and seen lots of happy jiffs, to today as being lost and shattered. An aching heart, grievous eyes and lone-some me in huge crowd stare at the moon regularly and affirm not to be attached so intensely to anyone ever again.

 

Being a notable writer and gleeful human, my father always used to say these lines when in trouble. Lines which churns me with every breath but keeps me going … 

 

"ए गर्दिश-ए- हालात मुझसे नाहक़ न उलझ , मैंने हर सूरत में जीने की कसमखाई हैं"

 

(Oh, adverse circumstances do not come in my way, As I vowed to live forever what come may).