My father visited us last evening. Me and Appu were happy to see him. It had been a long time. Just that he mentioned that my brothers’ turnover had crossed 8 crores and that my sister was receiving rent from her two houses apart from a very good salary from the government job that she holds. All in all, meaning that compared to them we were like BPL, below poverty line. Theek hai. Its OK. We are alive. We have survived. Should be enough for us.
Later in the night he shared how he was afraid to visit us. Afraid that we might reject him. It is sad. A father scared of visiting his daughter. What is there to say? I did not know I was so scary. Maybe I have grown some horns or a few thorns here and there.
I do not know how long is the walk,
I do not know whether there is any miracle waiting for us at the end,
Or if the end just lies in Nigambodh Ghat,
I do not know whether we are in the right direction,
or whether there is such a thing as right or wrong, light and darkness, truth and lies.
We walk because that is all we can do,
We show up for life every day, every moment because the rest is not in our ambit,
We do the best we can each day,
knowing that our absence will not cause any major upheaval in the universe,
That we are only a very miniscule part of the larger whole,
And hoping that we can contribute in some small way,
to create meaning for at least one life.
Before the final departure.
‘The last call’.