Why Not Earlier?

We all know only one side of him. We all know only one nature or characteristic of him. What we all don’t know about him is his shadow side, the emotional zone of his heart, the part of his subconscious mind that is tolerating every single problem of life without sharing that to anyone else. He never shows that he cares but he does, he never shows a single drop of emotion but actually he has an ocean full of feelings and emotions inside him. Who is he? What is his name? 

World call him father. The only difference between a mother and father is that a mother expresses her feelings and emotions whereas a father continues to bury the emotions under a deep corner of his heart. He tolerates things. 

Murari, a 20 years old boy, lived with his family comprising an emotional mother, unmarried sister and a (as I said) father that did not express anything. Although he never expressed he loved Murari from the bottom of his heart. He was his son and which father does not love his child. Although Murari always thought that his father does not love him as much as other fathers do.

Murari had a brother also. His name was Manoj. The only person with whom Murari could share anything was his brother. But destiny does not favour anyone. 2 years ago, Manoj joined a UPSC CSE coaching in Delhi. He wanted to be an Ias officer. Manoj was from a small village in Jharkhand, so being in Delhi was a big thing for him as well as for the whole village. Manoj even cleared the preliminary exam for UPSC CSE but he failed to pass the mains examination. He tried two attempts but could not pass the mains examination. He could not tolerate it, it caused him depression and depression took his life. He is no more in this world.

When Manoj passed away, his father did not cry at his funeral. Murari thought his father has no feelings. He thought how could a father be so monotonous that he even did not cry for his son. But Murari was not aware of his father’s anxiety. An environment of bad thoughts surrounded him in which he could breathe only bad thoughts, where he could eat only bad thoughts. He cried but only inside of his body. His soul cried, screamed. But Murari was not aware of that. 

Murari's father was going for a morning walk (perhaps to release the grip of sorrow that was eating his soul continuously) but he did not come back. It had been 4 hours since he left his home for the morning walk. He used to go for a walk on the outer road of the village. That road was broken at many places and usually, no vehicle passes through that road. Suddenly a voice called "Murari". The voice was screaming.

“Murari, Oh Murari... come fast with me,” the voice said in a winded tone. That voice was of Murari’s neighbour Hariram.

“What’s the matter?” Murari asked in an intriguing style.

“Your father has collapsed on the outer road of the village, they have taken him to the hospital...come fast with me. "

Murari left. Although he was not that much close with his father he had a strange fear inside that cannot be described. Perhaps that fear was the fear of love. Love that was always in Murari’s heart but he never felt that earlier ever. 

Murari arrived at the hospital. He saw his father lying on the bed, face turned eastward. Murari could not see his face. He felt pity for his father for the first time. He saw his father was lying, his palms supporting his chin and elbows touching the knees. Murari did not know why but he was about to cry. His guilt was about to come through his eyes in the form of tears. Murari’s father was not in the condition of talking so Murari could not talk to him that day. It was almost midnight. Murari was tired. A nursed permitted him to sleep in the corridor. Murari fell asleep as soon as he closed his eyes. 

The voice that awoke Murari from sleep left him completely numbed. “Your father is no more...he has passed away.”

Murari could not breathe. He saw his father sleeping in the peace last night and the next thing that he heard was that he is dead. All the memories with his father flashed in his mind. The memory of visiting the village fair on the shoulders of his father, memory of going on the fields to sow seeds, the memory of his father climbing the palm trees to pluck some dates for Murari. All such memories flashed in his mind.

At the same time, he felt guilt. The guilt of treating his father as a monotonous father, the guilt of not talking with his father properly, the guilt of always taunting him. Why a human is so. He never cares about a person when he is alive and suddenly a grip of sorrow catches him when that person is dead. Why a human cannot be happy with a person when he is alive? Why a human cry for another human only at the funeral, why doesn’t he cry when that person is alive? You should cry, cry hard. A tear makes a person close to another person. When a baby cries, it makes his mother close to him. When a wife cries, it makes her close to her husband. When a brother cries, it makes him closer to his consoling sister.

Murari cried, cried and cried. What else could he do? It would be better if he had cried before when his father was alive. WHY DIDN’T HE CRY EARLIER? WHY NOT EARLIER?