A wait unfulfilled

It all began on a wet, bone-chillingly cold day. The rock, his mind in turmoil, sat still like a sage. His body had been torn apart by the piercing rain that continued to inflict pain upon him in tandem with the strong winds. Such was the brutality of it that even the rock, an intimidatingly imposing structure, was reduced to a shivering mass. But he knew relief would come, sooner or later. He had known it all day long ever since the first wave had caressed his feet early in the morning. More waves had followed, one after the other, each subdued in its efforts. A tiny strand, as if in rebellion, rose up in a wave and crashed against the rock where its flight was crushed. The rock had endured the pain because he was waiting for his salvation. He could see the wave, a tall, serene mass of water moving as easily as a serpent slithering on grass. His body had frozen but his heart was a burning crescendo. His patience was being tested as other waves touched him and sprayed his face with mist. But yet he waited, unflinching and undeterred, for the wave to arrive and touch him in the face. The waves had partially immersed him now. He waited with bated breath as the wave came closer. His wait had reached its climax. A song was playing somewhere in the distance. He didn’t pay attention but instead chose to stare unblinkingly at the sea which grew boisterous every passing minute. The song got even louder. The rock still chose to ignore it. The wave was all that mattered to him. The interlude since their last meeting had been painful enough but he knew he had no option but to wait. And he did, every fiber of him calling out to the wave. Just then a song jerked him out of his trance. A boy, in his late teens, had walked onto the rock itself and was sitting on his knees. The wave was surging ahead rapidly. The boy started bleating on top of the music. The wave was drawing closer, surging ahead in its own trance. But the rock couldn’t think of the wave. The boy had interrupted his meditation. Closer, even closer it came. The boy had started to cry. The wave, at last, had arrived. The rock felt two warm drops fall on himself which were soon swallowed by the wave as it immersed the rock in itself. The boy sat there weeping pitifully. But the rock felt no pity for the boy. His own wails were much louder than that of the boy’s. The boy, in his quest for solitude, had spoilt an intimate moment which the rock had awaited for days. Slowly as the water receded the boy left the rock alone to moan the quirk of fate which had soured its ecstasy. The rock watched the wave as it receded back to the sea. In his heart he felt an anger that he had never known before. But in the larger scheme of things it mattered not. What mattered was that in a few weeks the wave would come again. Till then the rock would wait, unfazed and undeterred. It wasn’t the end of the world and he knew it. He was accustomed to the long wait. In those moments of solitude he kept reminding himself that waiting for something is always better than waiting for nothing. This game between the rock and the wave had continued for ages. And it would continue-for eternity or till the day one of them would cease to exist. Till then the rock would wait, sitting patiently like a sage.

Birth and Death

Birth. Death. The only certainties in life. Birth and Death are as connected to each other as a brother and sister sharing the umbilical cords from the same womb. While birth and death are contrary notions they still co-exist in every man’s life. Because a man is born he will die. The only difference is the time gap that exists between these two phenomena.
For some birth and death are separated by decades. For some it is a matter of mere seconds.
To many people, these intricacies of life matter not. Niall Dutta was one of them. As he nonchalantly lay asleep on his bed, insulated by the cozy walls of his well furnished home, life continued- as it always does, the drone of machines interspersed with the voices of men.
An alarm beeped somewhere in the distance. Niall’s head jerked up instantly and he looked around. Sunlight was streaming in through the windows. His younger sister was standing besides the window, her pensive face looking outside. Sunlight fell on her face and lit up every facet of it. Her gleaming earrings, touched by a soft breeze coming in through the window, danced in her ears. Every morning Niall woke up to the same sight. He sometimes wondered what fascination the world outside the window held for his sister.
“Any interesting guys outside, Tua?” Niall asked grinning.
“Couple of them. Winking and whistling,” Tua replied humouredly.
“Hey, where are mom and dad?”
“Off to work. Mom tried to wake you up but you were busy dreaming.”
“She did? I didn’t feel a thing,” replied Niall as he walked into the bathroom.

*****

Half an hour and a bath later, Niall finally felt awake. He made himself some coffee and opened the newspaper. He was scanning through the paper when his eyes fell on the date. 15th may. The day seemed to have an odd familiarity to it. Niall couldn’t quite place it and then in an iota of a second he remembered.
“Hey sis, today’s the 15th right?”
“Yeah”
“Happy birthday, sis”
“Thanks bro”
Niall gave Tua a giant hug. Niall knew Tua liked being hugged by him. It gave her a sense of security. A feeling of being loved. Of being wanted. He liked the wide smile which spread on her face whenever he hugged her.
“Did mom and dad wish you?”, Niall asked pulling back and looking into her eyes.
“No”, replied Tua nonchalantly, in a tone that suggested both hurt and defiance.
“What! Really? How could they”
“That’s ok”, Tua said trying to sound unfazed although her eyes were brimming with tears.
“Tell you what, sis. Forget mom and dad. Let’s just celebrate your birthday. Only the two of us. Have a cake, a few candles and some good music.”
“Thanks bro”
“Don’t mention it”
*****
Another hour later a small cake sat handsomely on the dining table in the living room. A small red candle was placed like a cherry atop it. Tua always preferred a quite birthday. Niall was the only one who bothered to wish or buy a gift for her. This face irked Niall but he never could summon the guts to ask his parents to celebrate Tua’s birthday with the same enthusiasm and fervour that they displayed on his birthday. He was always pampered like a lone child. Tua’s birthday always passed with a strange gloom lingering around the house. His dad maintained a stony silence while their mom always seemed irritated with something and seemingly small incidents managed to piss her off. Niall knew well the reactions of their parents if he even dared mention the name of his little sister. He felt an underlying sense of guilt that tortured his heart. His guilt, coupled with his affection for his younger sister, manifested itself through his insatiable urge to make his sister feel loved and to make up for the apathy of their parents. So he had taken to celebrating it alone when their parents were off to work. Every year they celebrated Tua’s birthday within closed doors like a secret ritual. Niall took special care to ensure that their parents wouldn’t have a clue of what was going on behind their back. Every trace of their secret party would be removed and everything in the house would be returned to its position as inconspicuously as possible.

*****

The gloom of the night had replaced the joy which morning had brought with itself, much like the stoic darkness that replaced the last receding rays of sunlight. Niall sat on the couch, his mind in turmoil, absent-mindedly staring at the floor. His mom had confined herself to her bedroom and his dad was reading a newspaper. Tua sat on a chair, her knees drawn up to her chin. She had a penchant for being unnaturally silent around people. So much so that people didn’t even notice or acknowledge her presence. Tua never talked to anyone except Niall. In fact she didn’t even talk to him in front of anyone, not even their parents. The silence reverberated around the room. The journey of life had come to a standstill to make way for the chariot of the past. Niall’s dad sat staring at the newspaper but no words penetrated his mind. He tossed it aside and walked into the bathroom. He closed the door behind him and stared in the mirror. It had been 13 years now. 13 long years. He could remember it as vividly as it was just yesterday. He had endured it all in silence. Just like his wife had. He stared at his own face, white with self-inflicted agony.

*****

5 year old Niall was excited. As he sat on the dining table eating his breakfast, he could barely keep himself from gulping down entire morsels of food without chewing. This earned him a few rebukes from his dad who sat besides him but today it hardly mattered to Niall. He had waited for this day for almost seven months- since his mom had told him about her pregnancy. His excitement, since, kept growing with the bulge on his mom’s belly. He had wanted a sibling ever since he had known what it meant. His mom would have to be admitted at the hospital and Niall was told that his sibling would be born soon. He was expecting the doctors to give them the baby as soon as they entered the hospital. But as his dad explained to him the baby would be born in a few days. This delay was something Niall was unprepared for and his excitement soon gave way to restlessness as he got into the car. His dad sat in front while he and his mom sat behind. Soon he would be joined by a small kid, he told himself. The half an hour drive from his house to the hospital was more than what Niall could take. He couldn’t sleep the previous night in his excitement. A few minutes into the journey he dozed off. He didn’t see much of what happened in the ensuing minutes. All he heard was a loud crash.
When he woke up next his dad, clothes bloodied and a few rips on the face, was sitting next to him. Niall himself, miraculously, had survived without any major injuries. A nurse came in and after ensuring Niall was fine asked his dad to accompany him outside where a somber-faced doctor stood. The door was ajar and yet Niall could not hear their conversation. He caught a few words like ‘Daughter’ and ‘Dead’- but he didn’t know what dead meant. He saw his dad crying into his hands but didn’t understand why. He and his dad returned home the next day and his mom came home a week after that but the baby never came. Niall waited on the door when his mom came back from the hospital. But she was alone. He repeatedly asked his parents where his sibling where his sibling was but he never got any replies. His mother buried herself in her room for many days after returning home. His dad spent most of his time doing anything but talking. But Niall’s little baby still hadn’t come home.
Then one day she did. When Niall woke up early one morning he saw a small girl of about five years standing next to his bedroom window and staring outside. Niall asked who she was and she replied that she was her sister. She didn’t have a name. So Niall named her Tua. An elated Niall had rushed to his mom and dad to tell them. But they gave him pitiful looks which turned into looks of anger when he tried repeating his story. But, even then, Niall didn’t care. He had what he wanted all his life. He had his sister. His own sister. And he stopped caring for anything else in this world.

*****

A sharp car horn brought Niall’s dad back to reality. He realized he had fallen to his knees in the bathroom. Tears were running from his cheek to the cold floor. He had just been visited by a memory which had tormented him for 13 years. He had tried to move on but he couldn’t. Just like his wife. He stood up and splashed handfuls of water on his face as he examined it in the mirror. He saw the scars from the horrific accident. The water had washed away the tears but the scars remained. Just like the scars on the mind of his son. And yet, he walked out, to face his son and the world. He knew that his daughter’s death had been an accident but he still felt guilty. After that fateful day, he hadn’t been able to see his son in the eye. He wished he too had died in that accident. But he couldn’t die yet. He had his son to take care of. His son, Niall, who had been affected the most by the death of his sister. Niall had started seeing weird things and more often than not his parents had seen him speaking to nobody. Two months ago, they had consulted a specialist. The specialist had used just one word to explain all of Niall’s actions. Just one word had been sufficient to summarize Niall’s love and affection for his sister. Just one word. Schizophrenia.