ಬೀಳ್ಕೊಡುಗೆ 

"ಅಪ್ಪ ಬಾತ್ ರೂಮಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಕುಸಿದು ಬಿದ್ರು ,ರಾಘವ" ರಮೇಶ ಹೇಳಿದ. ಅವನ ಧ್ವನಿ ಗದ್ಗದಿತವಾಗಿತ್ತು. ಗಾಬರಿ, ಅಸಹಾಯಕತೆಯನ್ನೂ ರಾಘವ ಗಮನಿಸಿದ. ದೂರದ ಜರ್ಮನಿಯಿಂದ ಫೋನ್ನಲ್ಲಿ ಮಾತಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದರೂ ಬೆಂಗಳೂರಿನ ತನ್ನ ಮನೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಏನಾಗುತ್ತಿರಬಹುದೆಂಬ ಚಿತ್ರ ಅವನ ಕಣ್ಮುಂದೆ ಬರುತ್ತಿತ್ತು. 

ರಮೇಶ ತನ್ನನ್ನು ಸಂಭಾಳಿಸಿಕೊಂಡು ಅಮ್ಮನನ್ನು ಸಮಾಧಾನ ಪಡಿಸಬೇಕು. ಯಾವುದೇ ಸಮಯ ವ್ಯರ್ಥ ಮಾಡದೆ ಆಂಬುಲೆನ್ಸ್ ಗೆ  ಕರೆ ಮಾಡಿ ಅಪ್ಪನನ್ನು ಆಸ್ಪತ್ರೆಗೆ ರವಾನೆ ಮಾಡಬೇಕು. ಘಂಟೆ ರಾತ್ರಿ ಹತ್ತಾಗಿತ್ತು. ರಮೇಶನ ಮಗಳು ಸಂಧ್ಯಾಳಿಗೆ ಇನ್ನೂ ಮೂರು ವರ್ಷ. ಈ ಗದ್ದಲವನ್ನೆಲ್ಲ ಕಂಡು ಅಳುತ್ತಿರುತ್ತಾಳೆ. ರಮೇಶನ ಹೆಂಡತಿ ಪುಷ್ಪ ಅಮ್ಮನನ್ನು ಗಮನಿಸುತ್ತಿರುತ್ತಾಳೆ... 

"ರಾಘವ..ಆಂಬುಲೆನ್ಸ್ ಬಂತು... ಈಗ ಆಸ್ಪತ್ರೆಗೆ ಹೋಗ್ತೀನಿ ನಾನು. ಆಮೇಲೆ ಫೋನ್ ಮಾಡ್ತೀನಿ." ದೂರದಲ್ಲೆಲ್ಲೋ ರಮೇಶನ ಧ್ವನಿ. 

"ಸರಿ. ಏನಾದ್ರೂ ಮಾತಾಡೋದಿದ್ರೆ ಫೋನ್ ಮಾಡು" ಎಂದು ರಾಘವ ಫೋನ್ ಇಟ್ಟ. 

ತಮ್ಮ ರಮೇಶನಿಗೆ ತಂದೆ-ತಾಯಿಯರ ಜವಾಬ್ದಾರಿ ವಹಿಸಿ ತಾನು ಜರ್ಮನಿಗೆ ಬಂದದ್ದು ಸರಿಯೋ, ತಪ್ಪೋ ಎಂಬ ದ್ವಂದ್ವ ರಾಘವನನ್ನು ಸದಾ ಕಾಡುತ್ತಲೇ ಇತ್ತು. ಸದ್ಯ, ಅವರ ಆರೋಗ್ಯದಲ್ಲಿ ಯಾವ ವ್ಯತ್ಯಯವು ಆಗದಿದ್ದ ಕಾರಣ ಇವನು ನಿರಾಳವಾಗಿದ್ದ. ಮಡದಿ ಮಾಲತಿ, ಮಗ ವಿಶ್ವಾಸ್ ನ ಜೊತೆ ಖುಷಿಯಾಗಿಯೇ ಕೆಲವು ವರ್ಷಗಳನ್ನು ಕಳೆದಿದ್ದ. ಇನ್ನೊಂದೆರಡು ವರ್ಷ ಇಲ್ಲೇ ಇದ್ದು ನಂತರ ಬೆಂಗಳೂರಿಗೆ ಮರಳಿ, ಅಪ್ಪ ಅಮ್ಮನನ್ನು ತನ್ನ ಜೊತೆಗೆ ಇರಿಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳುವ ಯೋಚನೆ ಅವನದ್ದು. ಆದರೆ ರಮೇಶನ ಫೋನ್ ಕಾಲ್ ಎಲ್ಲವನ್ನು ಬುಡಮೇಲು ಮಾಡಿತ್ತು. 

"ಊಟಕ್ಕೆ ಬಾರಪ್ಪ" ಎಂದು ಐದು ವರ್ಷದ ವಿಶ್ವಾಸ್ ಮುದ್ದಾಗಿ ಕರೆದಾಗ, ಈ ಆಘಾತದಲ್ಲೂ ಒಂದು ಸಣ್ಣ ಚೈತನ್ಯ. ಡೈನಿಂಗ್ ಟೇಬಲ್ ಮುಂದೆ ಕೂತರೂ ರಾಘವನಿಗೆ ಏನು ತಿನ್ನುವ ಮನಸ್ಸಾಗಲಿಲ್ಲ. "ಅಪ್ಪನನ್ನು ಆಸ್ಪತ್ರೆಗೆ ಕರೆದುಕೊಂಡು ಹೋಗುತ್ತಿದ್ದಾರೆ ಎಂದಾಗ ಅವನ ಕಣ್ಣಂಚಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಒಂದೆರಡು ಹನಿ ನೀರು. ಎದುರಲ್ಲಿ ಕುಳಿತ್ತಿದ್ದ ಮಾಲತಿ ಬಂದು ಇವನ ಪಕ್ಕದಲ್ಲಿ ಕುಳಿತಳು. 

"ಏನು ಆಗೋದಿಲ್ಲ ರಾಘವ್. ಹೀ ವಿಲ್ ಬಿ ಓಕೆ" ಎಂದು ಸಮಾಧಾನ ನೀಡುವ ಪ್ರಯತ್ನ ಮಾಡಿದಳು. ಏನೂ ಅರಿಯದ ವಿಶ್ವಾಸ್ ತನ್ನ ಕೈ ಬೆರಳುಗಳನ್ನು ಅಪ್ಪನ ಕೈ ಬೆರಳುಗಳೊಂದಿಗೆ ಸೇರಿಸಿದ್ದ. 

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ಜರ್ಮನಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಘಂಟೆ ರಾತ್ರಿ ಹನ್ನೊಂದಾಗಿತ್ತು. ಅಂದರೆ ಬೆಂಗಳೂರಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಎರಡೂವರೆ ಸುಮಾರು.  ರಾಘವ ಫೋನ್ ಪಕ್ಕದಲ್ಲೇ ಕುಳಿತಿದ್ದ. ರಮೇಶ ಆಸ್ಪತ್ರೆ ವಿವರವನ್ನು ವಾಟ್ಸಪ್ಪ್ ಮೂಲಕ ಕಳಿಸಿದ್ದ. ಹೈಟೆಕ್ ಆಸ್ಪತ್ರೆಗೇ ಅಪ್ಪನನ್ನು ಸೇರಿಸಿದ್ದ. 

"ದುಡ್ಡಿನ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಏನೂ ಯೋಚ್ನೆ ಮಾಡ್ಬೇಡ" ಎಂಬ ರಾಘವನ ಸಂದೇಶವನ್ನು ರಮೇಶ ನೋಡಿದ್ದ. ಆದರೆ ಉತ್ತರಿಸಿರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ರಾಘವನಿಗೆ ಸಣ್ಣ ಅಳುಕು. ಬಹುಶಃ ಇಂಥ ಸಮಯದಲ್ಲಿ ತಾನು ದುಡ್ಡಿನ ವಿಚಾರ ಎತ್ತ ಬಾರದಿತ್ತು. ಆದರೆ ಅವನಿಗೂ ಉದ್ವೇಗ. ಅಪ್ಪನಿಗೆ ಏನಾಗಿರಬಹುದು, ಡಾಕ್ಟರ್ ಏನು ಹೇಳಿದರು ಎಂದು ತಿಳಿಯುವ ತವಕ. ಯಾವುದೇ ಸಂದೇಶ ಬಂದಿಲ್ಲವೆಂದು ತಿಳಿದಿದ್ದರೂ ಐದೈದು ನಿಮಿಷಕ್ಕೂ ಫೋನ್ ನೋಡುತ್ತಲೇ ಇದ್ದ. 

ಇನ್ನು ಸುದ್ದಿಗಾಗಿ ಕಾಯಲಾಗದೆ ರಮೇಶನಿಗೆ ಫೋನ್ ಮಾಡಿದ. ಒಂದೇ ರಿಂಗಿನಲ್ಲಿ ರಮೇಶ ಉತ್ತರಿಸಿದ. 

"ಅಣ್ಣ...ಇನ್ನು ಮಲ್ಗಿಲ್ವೇನೋ?" ಸಹಜವಾಗಿ ಕೇಳಿದ ರಮೇಶ. 

"ನಿದ್ದೆ ಹೇಗೋ ಬರುತ್ತೆ...ಅಲ್ಲಿಂದ ಏನೂ ಸುದ್ದೀ ನೇ ಇಲ್ಲ... "

"ಗಾಬರಿಯಾಗ್ಬೇಡ ರಾಘವ... ಅಪ್ಪನಿಗೆ ಹಾರ್ಟ್ ಅಟ್ಯಾಕ್ ಆಗಿದ್ಯಂತೆ. ಇಪ್ಪತ್ನಾಲ್ಕು ಘಂಟೆ ಅಬ್ಸರ್ವೇಷನ್ ಅಂತೆ. ಐ.ಸಿ.ಯು ನಲ್ಲಿ ಇಟ್ಟಿದ್ದಾರೆ. " ರಮೇಶ ಹೇಳಿದ. ಅವನ ಧ್ವನಿ ಶಾಂತವಾಗಿಯೇ ಇತ್ತು. 

"ಹಾಂ...." ಒಂದು ಕ್ಷಣ ರಾಘವನಿಗೆ ಏನು ತೋಚಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಮೌನವಾಗಿದ್ದ. "ಸರಿ. ಈಗ ಜ್ಞಾನ ಬಂದಿದ್ಯ?" ಕೇಳಿದ. 

"ಇಲ್ಲವಂತೆ. ನನಗೆ ಒಳಗೆ ಹೋಗೋ ಅವಕಾಶ ಇಲ್ಲ. ಐ.ಸಿ.ಯು ಆಚೆ ಕೂತಿದೀನಿ. " ರಮೇಶ ಹೇಳಿದ. 

"ಅಮ್ಮ ಹೇಗಿದ್ದಾಳೆ?" ರಾಘವ್ ಕೇಳಿದ. ಅವಳನ್ನು ತಕ್ಷಣ ನೋಡುವ ಮನಸ್ಸಾಯಿತು. 

"ಪುಷ್ಪ ನೋಡ್ಕೋತಿದಾಳೆ. ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ಶಾಕ್ ಆಗಿದ್ಲು. ಆಗುತ್ತೆ ಅಲ್ವಾ..... ಈಗ ಮಲಗಿರಬಹುದು. ಬೆಳಗ್ಗೆ ಮಾತಾಡು. "

"ಹೂ..ಸರಿ. ನೀನು ಹುಷಾರು. ನಾನು ಬರ್ಬೇಕಾದ್ರೆ ಹೇಳು....ತಕ್ಷಣ ಹೊರ್ಡ್ತೀನಿ. ಇಲ್ಲ ಅಪ್ಪ ಮನೆಗೆ ಬಂದ ತಕ್ಷಣ ಬರ್ತೀನಿ."

"ಸರಿ ಅಣ್ಣ.. ಆತುರ ಬೇಡ. ಸದ್ಯಕ್ಕೆ ಪರಿಸ್ಥಿತಿ ಕಂಟ್ರೋಲ್ ನಲ್ಲಿದೆ. ಆಂಬ್ಯುಲೆನ್ಸ್ನಲ್ಲಿ ನನಗೆ ಒಂದೆರಡು ನಿಮಿಷ ಕೈಕಾಲೇ ಆಡ್ಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಈಗ ಪರವಾಗಿಲ್ಲ." ಮೊದಲ ಬಾರಿಗೆ ರಮೇಶ ತನ್ನ ಒತ್ತಡವನ್ನು ತೋಡಿಕೊಂಡ. 

"ಸರಿ. ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ರೆಸ್ಟ್ ತೊಗೊ....ಕಷ್ಟ...ಗೊತ್ತು.." ರಾಘವನಿಗೆ ಮುಂದೆ ಏನು ಮಾತಾಡಲು ತೋಚಲಿಲ್ಲ. 

"ಸರಿ ರಾಘವ.. "ಎಂದು ರಮೇಶ ಫೋನಿಟ್ಟ.

ಅತ್ತ ರಾಘವನಿಗೆ ಒಂದೊಂದು ನಿಮಿಷವೂ ಒಂದೊಂದು ಯುಗದಂತಿದ್ದರೆ, ಇತ್ತ ರಮೇಶನಿಗೆ ಸಮಯದ ಪರಿವೇ ಇರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಕಳೆದ ಮೂರ್ನಾಲ್ಕು ಘಂಟೆಗಳಲ್ಲಿ ಏನೆಲ್ಲಾ ನಡೆದುಹೋಗಿತ್ತು. ಅಪ್ಪ ಬಚ್ಚಲುಮನೆಯಲ್ಲಿ ಯಾವಾಗ ಕುಸಿದರು ಯಾರಿಗೂ ಗೊತ್ತಿಲ್ಲ. ಊಟ ಮಾಡಿ ಕೈ ತೊಳೆಯಲು ಹೋದವರು ಹತ್ತು ನಿಮಿಷವಾದರೂ ಹೊರಬಾರದಿದ್ದಾಗ ಸಂಧ್ಯಾ ತುಂಟತನದಿಂದ ಬಾಗಿಲು ತಟ್ಟಲು ಶುರುಮಾಡಿದಳು. ಆ ಕಡೆಯಿಂದ ಉತ್ತರವೇ ಇಲ್ಲದಿದ್ದಾಗ ರಮೇಶನಿಗೆ ಗಾಬರಿಯಾಯಿತು. ಅವನು, ಪುಷ್ಪ, ಅಮ್ಮ ಎಲ್ಲರು ಬಾಗಿಲನ್ನು ಜೋರಾಗಿ ಬಡಿದರು. ಉತ್ತರವೇ ಇಲ್ಲ. ಅಮ್ಮ ಕಂಗಾಲಾಗಿ ಸೋಫಾದ ಮೇಲೆ ಕುಳಿತರು. ರಮೇಶ ಪಕ್ಕದ ಮನೆ ಜಾನಿಯನ್ನು ಕರೆದು ಇಬ್ಬರು ಬಲ ಪ್ರಯೋಗ ಮಾಡಿ ಬಾಗಿಲನ್ನು ಒಡೆದರು. ನೋಡಿದರೆ ಅಪ್ಪ ನೆಲದ ಮೇಲೆ ಬಿದ್ದಿದ್ದಾರೆ. ಜ್ಞಾನವೇ ಇಲ್ಲ. ಕ್ಷೀಣವಾಗಿ ಉಸಿರಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದಾರೆ. ಯಾವುದೋ ಮಾಯದಲ್ಲಿ ಪುಷ್ಪ ಅಂಬ್ಯುಲನ್ಸಗೆ ಫೋನ್ ಮಾಡಿದ್ದಳು. ಆಕೆಯ ಸಮಯ ಪ್ರಜ್ಞೆ ಮೆಚ್ಚಲೇಬೇಕು. ಹತ್ತೇ ನಿಮಿಷದಲ್ಲಿ ಆಂಬುಲೆನ್ಸ್ ಮನೆಯ ಮುಂದಿತ್ತು. ಅಷ್ಟರೊಳಗೆ ಆಕೆ ಇವನಿಗೆ ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ದುಡ್ಡು, ಫ್ಲಾಸ್ಕ್ ನೀರು, ಕ್ರೆಡಿಟ್ ಕಾರ್ಡ್, ಪವರ್ ಬ್ಯಾಂಕ್ ಜೊತೆಗೆ ಒಂದು ಹೊದಿಕೆಯನ್ನು ತಯಾರು ಮಾಡಿದ್ದಳು. ಕಂಗಾಲಾಗಿ ಕುಳಿತ್ತಿದ್ದ ಅತ್ತೆಯನ್ನು ನಿಧಾನವಾಗಿ ಕೇಳಿ ಮಾವನ ಕನ್ನಡಕ, ಒಂದೆರಡು ಬಟ್ಟೆ ಹಾಗು ಅವರ ಬಿ.ಪಿ. ಮಾತ್ರೆಯನ್ನು ಪ್ಯಾಕ್ ಮಾಡಿದ್ದಳು. Stretcherನಲ್ಲಿದ್ದ ಅಪ್ಪನ ಜೊತೆ ರಮೇಶ ಆಂಬುಲೆನ್ಸ್ ಏರಿದ. "ಯೋಚ್ನೆ ಮಾಡ್ಬೇಡ. ಮನೆ ನಾ ನೋಡ್ಕೋತೀನಿ . ಮಾವನ್ನ ನೋಡ್ಕೋ" ಎಂದು ಸ್ಥೈರ್ಯ ನೀಡಿ ಕಳಿಸಿದ್ದಳು. 

ರಮೇಶ ಐ. ಸಿ. ಯು. ಬಾಗಿಲನ್ನು ದಿಟ್ಟಿಸಿ ನೋಡಿದ. ಬೆಳಗ್ಗೆ ಡಾಕ್ಟರ್ ಬರುವವರೆಗೂ ಯಾವ ಖಚಿತ ಸುದ್ದಿಯೂ ಬರುವಂತೆ ಕಾಣಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಚಡಪಡಿಕೆ ತಾಳಲಾರದೆ ಡ್ಯೂಟಿ ನರ್ಸ್ ಬಳಿ ಹೋಗಿ "ಮಿಸ್ಟರ್ ರಾಧಾಕೃಷ್ಣ ಹೇಗಿದ್ದಾರೆ?" ಎಂದ. "ಏನೂ ತೊಂದ್ರೆ ಇಲ್ಲ ಬಿಡ್ರಿ" ಎಂದು ನರ್ಸ್ ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ಲಘುವಾಗಿ ಹೇಳಿದಳು. ರಮೇಶ ಕೋಪ ಬಂದರು ತಾಳ್ಮೆ ಕಳೆದುಕೊಳ್ಳಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಏನೂ ಮಾತಾಡದೆ ತನ್ನ ಜಾಗಕ್ಕೆ ಹಿಂದಿರುಗಿದ. ನರ್ಸ್ಗೆಗೆ  ಏನನ್ನಿಸಿತೋ. "ಸಾರ್.. ಅವ್ರು ಮಲಗಿದ್ದಾರೆ. ಐ. ಸಿ. ಯು. ನಲ್ಲಿ ನೋ ನ್ಯೂಸ್ ಇಸ್ ಗುಡ್ ನ್ಯೂಸ್ ಸಾರ್. " ಎಂದು ಸಮಾಧಾನದ ಮಾತಾಡಿದಳು. 

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"ನೋ ನ್ಯೂಸ್ ಇಸ್ ಗುಡ್ ನ್ಯೂಸ್.... ರಾಘವ" ರಮೇಶ ಬೆಳಗ್ಗೆ ಅಣ್ಣನಿಗೆ ಹೇಳಿದ. ರಾಘವನಿಗೆ ಕೊಂಚ ನೆಮ್ಮದಿ. ಪರಿಸ್ಥಿತಿ ಹೆಚ್ಚೇನೂ ಬದಲಾಗಿರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಆದರೆ ರಮೇಶನ ಧ್ವನಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಧೈರ್ಯ. ಅತ್ತ ಪುಷ್ಪಾಳಿಗು  ಫೋನ್ ಮಾಡಿದ್ದ. ಅಮ್ಮ ಶಾಂತವಾಗಿದ್ದಳು. "ಪುಷ್ಪ ಮಗಳ ಹಾಗೆ ನಿಂತು ನನ್ನನ್ನ ನೋಡ್ಕೋತಿದಾಳೆ" ಎಂದಾಗ ಸಂತೋಷವೂ ಆಯಿತು. ತಾನು ಅಲ್ಲಿಲ್ಲವಲ್ಲ ಎಂಬ ಸಂಕಟವೂ ಆಯಿತು. 

"ನನಗೂ ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಬಹಳ ಕಷ್ಟವಾಗ್ತಿದೆ. ಅಪ್ಪ ಬಂದ ತಕ್ಷಣ ಹೊರಟು ಬರ್ತೀನಿ. " ಎಂದ ರಾಘವ. 

"ಹೂ ರಾಘವ...ನೋಡೋಣ.. ಏನೇನಾಗುತ್ತೋ.. "ಎನ್ನುತ್ತಾ ಅಮ್ಮ ಫೋನ್ ಇಟ್ಟಳು. 

ಇತ್ತ ವಿಶ್ವಾಸ್ ಪುಟ್ಟ ಪುರಂದರ ದಾಸರ ವೇಷ ಧರಿಸಿ ತಂದೆಯ ಮುಂದೆ ಬಂದು ನಿಂತ. ಅಂದು ಅವನ ಶಾಲೆಯ ವಾರ್ಷಿಕೋತ್ಸವ. ಫ್ಯಾನ್ಸಿ ಡ್ರೆಸ್ ಸ್ಪರ್ಧೆಗಾಗಿ ಒಂದು ವಾರದಿಂದಲೇ ತಯಾರಿ ನಡೆದಿತ್ತು. ಧರಿಸಿದರೆ ದಾಸರ ವೇಷವನ್ನೇ ವಿಶ್ವಾಸ್ ಧರಿಸಬೇಕು ಎಂಬ ತನ್ನ ಮಾತನ್ನು ಮಾಲತಿ ಸಂಪೂರ್ಣವಾಗಿ ಒಪ್ಪಿದ್ದಳು. ವಿಶ್ವಾಸ್ ಗೆ  ದಾಸರ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಸಣ್ಣ ಕತೆ ಹೇಳಿ, ಅವನು ವೇದಿಕೆ ಮೇಲೆ ಹೋಗಿ "ಅಂದು ನವಕೋಟಿ ನಾರಾಯಣ, ಇಂದು ಪುರಂದರ ದಾಸ" ಎಂದು ಇಂಗ್ಲಿಷ್ನಲ್ಲಿ ಹೇಳಬೇಕು ಎಂದು ನಿರ್ಧಾರವಾಗಿತ್ತು. 

ವಿಡಿಯೋ ಕಾಲ್ ನಲ್ಲಿ ಅಪ್ಪನಿಗೆ ಇದನ್ನು ಹೇಳಿದಾಗ, ಅಪ್ಪ "ಇಷ್ಟೇ ಮಾಡಿದ್ರೆ  ಏನು ಸುಖ ? ಅಲ್ಲಿರೋ ರಿಗೆ ಏನು ತಿಳಿಯೊಲ್ಲ. ರಾಘವ..ದಾಸರ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಒಂದು ಸಣ್ಣ ಟಿಪ್ಪಣಿ ಮಾಡಿ  ಹಂಚು....ಆಮೇಲೆ....ವಿಶ್ವಾಸ್ ಗೆ ನಾ ಹೇಳ್ಕೊಡ್ತೀನಿ....ಈ ದಾಸರ ಪದದ ಎರಡು ಸಾಲು ಹಾಡ್ಲಿ 'ಜಗದೋದ್ಧಾರನ....ಆಡಿಸಿದಳೆ ಯಶೋಧೆ.. " ಎಂದು ಹೇಳಿಕೊಟ್ಟರು. ತೊದಲು ನುಡಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಮುದ್ದಾಗಿ ವಿಶ್ವಾಸ್ ಅದನ್ನು ಒಪ್ಪಿಸಿದ್ದು ಕೇಳಿ ಅವರಿಗೆ ಎಷ್ಟೋ ಖುಷಿ. 

"ಲೇ ರಾಘವ..ಅಲ್ಲೇ ಸಂಗೀತದ ಕ್ಲಾಸ್ ಇದ್ರೆ ಸೇರಿಸೋ..." ಎಂದಿದ್ದರು. 

ಇಂದು ವಾರ್ಷಿಕೋತ್ಸವದ ಕಾರ್ಯಕ್ರಮ ಮುಗಿದಮೇಲೆ ಅಲ್ಲಿಂದಲೇ ಅಪ್ಪನಿಗೆ ಕರೆ ಮಾಡುವುದೆಂದು ಮಾತಾಗಿತ್ತು. 

ಮನಸಿಲ್ಲದ ಮನಸ್ಸಿನಿಂದ ರಾಘವ ಕಾರ್ಯಕ್ರಮಕ್ಕೆ ತಯಾರಾದ. ಮಾಲತಿ "ಇಲ್ಲಿ ಕೂತು ನಾವೇನು ಮಾಡೋಕ್ಕಾಗಲ್ಲ. ಅಲ್ಲಿ ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ಹೊತ್ತು ನೀವೂ ಯೋಚನೆಯಿಂದ ದೂರವಿರಬಹುದು. ಹೇಗಿದ್ರು ರಮೇಶ್ ಫೋನ್ ಮಾಡ್ತಾರಲ್ಲ..."ಎಂದಳು. 

ಕಾರ್ ಹತ್ತುವ ವೇಳೆಗೆ ರಮೇಶನಿಂದ ಕರೆ ಬಂತು. "ರಾಘವ...ಅಪ್ಪನಿಗೆ ಆಪರೇಷನ್ ಮಾಡಬೇಕಂತೆ. ಇನ್ನೆರಡು ಘಂಟೇಲಿ. ನಾನು ಒಪ್ಪಿಗೆ ಕೊಟ್ಟಾಯಿತು. . ರಾತ್ರಿ ಮೇಲೆ ಗೊತ್ತಾಗುತ್ತೆ..ಮುಂದೇನು ಅಂತ"

"ಹಾಗಾದ್ರೆ...ನಾ ಈಗ್ಲೇ ಹೊರಡಲ?" ರಾಘವ ಕೇಳಿದ. 

"ಬೇಡ...ಆ.. ರಾತ್ರಿ ಹೇಳ್ತಿನಿ" ಇತ್ತ ರಮೇಶನಿಗೂ ಕಸಿವಿಸಿ. ಇತ್ತ ರಾಘವ ತಕ್ಷಣಕ್ಕೆ ಬಂದು ಮಾಡುವುದೇನು ಇರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ತಾನೇ ಅಪ್ಪನನ್ನು ಒಂದೆರಡು ನಿಮಿಷ ನೋಡಿದ್ದಿರಬೇಕು, ಐ. ಸಿ. ಯು. ಗೆ ಸೇರಿಸಿದ ಮೇಲೆ. ಆದರೆ, ತನ್ನ ಮಾತು ಕೇಳಿ, ಅವನು ಬರದೇ ಅಪ್ಪನಿಗೆ ಏನಾದರೂ...?

ಏನಾದರೂ ಆಗಲಿ, ರಾತ್ರಿ ಆಪರೇಷನ್ ಮುಗಿದ ಮೇಲೆ ಅವನನ್ನು ಕರೆಸಿಕೊಳ್ಳಲು ನಿರ್ಧರಿಸಿದ. 

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ರಾತ್ರಿ ಒಂಭತ್ತಾಗಿತ್ತು. ರಾಘವನಿಂದ ರಮೇಶನಿಗೆ ವಿಡಿಯೋಸಹಿತ ಸಂದೇಶ. "ಅಪ್ಪನಿಗೆ ತೋರಿಸು" ಎಂದು. ವಿಶ್ವಾಸ್ ಪುರಂದರ ದಾಸರ ವೇಷದಲ್ಲಿ ವೇದಿಕೆ ಮೇಲೆ ನಿಂತು "ಜಗದ್ದೋದ್ದಾರನ...." ಹಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದಾನೆ. ಅಪ್ಪನ ತಾಲೀಮು ಎಂದು ರಮೇಶನಿಗೂ ತಿಳಿದಿತ್ತು. 

ಅಮ್ಮ, ಪುಷ್ಪ, ಸಂಧ್ಯಾ ಎಲ್ಲರು ಇವನೊಂದಿಗೆ ಆಸ್ಪತ್ರೆಯಲ್ಲೇ ಬೀಡು ಬಿಟ್ಟಿದ್ದರು. ಮೌನವಾಗಿ ಕೂತಿದ್ದವರಿಗೆ ರಮೇಶ ವಿಶ್ವಾಸ್ ನ ವಿಡಿಯೋ ತೋರಿಸಿದ. ಅವನ ತಾಯಿಗೆ ಮೊಮ್ಮಗನ ವೇಷ ಕಂಡು ಸಣ್ಣದಾದ ನೆಮ್ಮದಿಯ ನಗು. 

"ತದ್ರೂಪು ರಾಘವನೇ . ನಿಮ್ಮ ತಂದೆ ಎರಡನೇ ಕ್ಲಾಸಿನಲ್ಲಿ  ರಾಘವನಿಗೆ ಈ ವೇಷ ಹಾಕ್ಸಿದ್ರು" ಎಂದಳು. 

"ಓ ಹೌದ... ಈ ವಿಷಯ ಗೊತ್ತೇ ಇರಲಿಲ್ಲ...ಅದಕ್ಕೆ ರಾಘವನಿಗೆ ಈ ಉಪಾಯ ಹೊಳೆದಿರೋದು"

"ಒಂದು ಮಟ್ಟಿಗೆ ದಾಸರ ಪದ ಹಾಡ್ತಿದ್ರು, ನಿಮ್ಮ ಮಾವ...ಈಗ ಬಿಟ್ಟಿದ್ದಾರೆ" ಎಂದು ತನ್ನ ಗಂಡನ ಹೊಸ ಪರಿಚಯ ಮಾಡಿಕೊಡುವಂತೆ ಪುಷ್ಪಳಿಗೆ ಹೇಳಿದಳು. 

"ಮನೆಗೆ ಬಂದ ಮೇಲೆ ಮತ್ತೆ ಹಾಡ್ಸೋಣ ಬಿಡಿ" ಎಂದಳು ಪುಷ್ಪ. 

"ಯಾಕೋ ಕಾಣೆ...ನನಗೆ ನಾನೇ ಧೈರ್ಯ ತಂದ್ಕೋತಾ ಇದ್ದೀನಿ." ಎಂದು ರಮೇಶನ ತಾಯಿ ಶೂನ್ಯ ನೋಟವನ್ನು ಬೀರಿದಳು. 

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ರಾಘವ ಜರ್ಮನಿಯಿಂದ ಹೊರಟಾಗಿತ್ತು. ವಿಮಾನದಲ್ಲಿ ಅಪ್ಪ ಪ್ರಯಾಣ ಮಾಡುವಾಗ ಮೋಡಗಳ ಆಕಾರಗಳನ್ನು ಗಮನಿಸುತ್ತ ಖುಷಿ ಪಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದುದು ನೆನಪಾಯಿತು. ವಿಮಾನಗಳ ರೂಟ್ ನೆನಪಿಟ್ಟುಕೊಳ್ಳುವ ವಿಚಿತ್ರ ಹವ್ಯಾಸ ಅವರದ್ದು. 

"ಆಪರೇಷನ್ ಮುಗೀತು.ಅಬ್ಸರ್ವೇಷನ್ ಅಂತೆ. ನೀನು ಹೊರಟು ಬಾ...."ಎಂದು ದೂರವಾಣಿ ಮಾಡಿದಾಕ್ಷಣ ಹೊರಟಿದ್ದ. ಮಾಲತಿ,ವಿಶ್ವಾಸ್ ರನ್ನು ಕರೆದುಕೊಂಡು ಬರುವ ತಾಳ್ಮೆ ಇರಲಿಲ್ಲ. 

ಪ್ರಯಾಣದುದ್ದಕ್ಕೂ ಅಪ್ಪನದೇ ಫೋಟೋ ವಿಡಿಯೋಗಳು, ಐ ಪ್ಯಾಡ್ ನಲ್ಲಿ. ಅವರ-ಅಮ್ಮನ ಇಪ್ಪತೈದನೇ ಮದುವೆ ವಾರ್ಷಿಕೋತ್ಸವ, ಮಹಾಬಲೇಶ್ವರ ಪ್ರವಾಸ, ಕಶ್ಮೀರ ಪ್ರವಾಸ; ಅಲ್ಲಿನ ದಲ್ ಸರೋವರದಲ್ಲಿನ ದೋಣಿಯಲ್ಲಿ ಅಪ್ಪ ಅಮ್ಮನಿಗೆ ಹೂ ನೀಡಿದ್ದು, ಜರ್ಮನಿಗೆ ಬಂದು ವಿಶ್ವಾಸ್ ನನ್ನು ಮೊದಲ ಬಾರಿ ಎತ್ತುಕೊಂಡಿದ್ದು ಎಲ್ಲವನ್ನು ಒಮ್ಮೆ, ಮತ್ತೊಮ್ಮೆ, ಮಗದೊಮ್ಮೆ ನೋಡಿದ. ಕಿಟಕಿಯಿಂದಾಚೆ ಮೋಡಗಳಲ್ಲೂ ಅಪ್ಪನ ಮುಖವನ್ನೇ ಕಂಡ. 

ತಾನು ಜರ್ಮನಿಗೆ ಹೊರಟಾಗ, "ನನಗೂ ನಿಮ್ಮಮ್ಮನಿಗೂ ಎಪ್ಪತ್ತಾಗುವುದರೊಳಗೆ ನೀನು ಇಲ್ಲಿಗೆ ವಾಪಸ್ಸಾಗಬೇಕು..."ಎಂಬ ಅವರ ಷರತ್ತನ್ನು ಇವನು ಗಂಭೀರವಾಗಿ ಪರಿಗಣಿಸಿರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಆದರೆ ಅಪ್ಪ ಗುಣವಾದರೆ ಈಗಲೇ ಜರ್ಮನಿಯಿಂದ ಸಂಸಾರ ಸಮೇತ ಹಿಂದಿರುಗುತ್ತೇನೆ ಎಂದು ಮನಸ್ಸಿನಲ್ಲೇ ನಿರ್ಧಾರ ಮಾಡಿಕೊಂಡ. 

ಇತ್ತ ಅಮ್ಮ, ಪುಷ್ಪ ಮನೆಗೆ ಹಿಂದಿರುಗಿದ್ದರು. ಅಪ್ಪನ ಆಪರೇಷನ್ ನಂತರ ಅರ್ಧ ಘಂಟೆ ಅವರ ಪಕ್ಕದಲ್ಲಿ ಕೂರಲು ಅಮ್ಮನಿಗೆ ಅವಕಾಶ ಮಾಡಿಕೊಟ್ಟಿದ್ದರು. ಅಪ್ಪನಿಗೆ ಇನ್ನು ಜ್ಞಾನ ಬಂದಿರಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಆದರೆ ಅಮ್ಮನಿಗೆ ಏನೋ ನೆಮ್ಮದಿ. ಡಾಕ್ಟರ್ ರಮೇಶನನ್ನು ಕರೆದು "ಆಪರೇಷನ್ ಮಾಡಿದ್ದೀವಿ. ಯಾವುದಕ್ಕೂ ಸ್ವಲ್ಪ ಸಮಯ ಬೇಕು. He is responding, though" ಎಂದು ಅಡ್ಡ ಗೋಡೆಯ ಮೇಲೆ ದೀಪವಿಟ್ಟರು. ಪುಷ್ಪಳ ಹತ್ತಿರ ಹೇಳಿಕೊಂಡ ರಮೇಶ, ಅಮ್ಮನಿಗೆ ತಿಳಿಸಲಿಲ್ಲ. ರಾಘವನಿಗೆ ಫೋನ್ ಮಾಡಿ ಹೊರಡಲು ಹೇಳಿದ್ದ.   

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ರಾತ್ರಿಯೆಲ್ಲ ರಮೇಶ ಐ.ಸಿ.ಯು. ಮುಂದೆ ಕುಳಿತ್ತಿದ್ದ. ಮುಂಜಾನೆ ವೇಳೆಗೆ ಐ.ಸಿ.ಯು. ಒಳಗೆ ಏನೋ ಗದ್ದಲ, ಚಟುವಟಿಕೆ. ಒಳಗೂ -ಹೊರಗೂ ಓಡಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದ ನರ್ಸ್ ಗಳು ಇವನನ್ನೇ ಕಳವಳದಿಂದ ನೋಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದರು. ರಮೇಶನಿಗೆ ಗಾಬರಿಯಾಯಿತು. ಐ.ಸಿ.ಯು. ಡೆಸ್ಕ್ ಬಳಿ ಹೋಗಿ "ನರ್ಸ್, ಏನಾಯಿತು? ಯಾಕೆ ಏನೋ ಟೆನ್ಶನ್ನಲ್ಲಿ ಓಡಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದಾರೆ ಎಲ್ಲರು?" ಎಂದು ಕೇಳಿದ. 

ಆಕೆಗೆ ಒಂದು ಕ್ಷಣ ಏನು ಹೇಳಲೂ ತೋಚಲಿಲ್ಲ. ನಿಧಾನವಾಗಿ "ಸಾರ್...ನಿಮ್ಮ ತಂದೆ ಆರೋಗ್ಯ ಮತ್ತೆ ಏರುಪೇರಾಗಿದೆ. ಡ್ಯೂಟಿ ಡಾಕ್ಟರ್ ನೋಡ್ತಿದಾರೆ. ಸ್ಪೆಷಲಿಸ್ಟ್ ಬರ್ತಿದಾರೆ..ನೀವು ಕೂತಿರಿ" ಎಂದಳು. 

ರಮೇಶನಿಗೆ ತನ್ನ ಕಾಲುಗಳ ಶಕ್ತಿಯೇ ಉಡುಗಿಹೋದಂತಾಯಿತು. ನರ್ಸ್ ಏನನ್ನೋ ಹೇಳಲು ಪ್ರಯತ್ನಿಸುತ್ತಿದ್ದಳು. ಅವನಿಗೆ ಏನೂ ಕೇಳಿಸಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಐ.ಸಿ.ಯು. ನಿಂದ ಆಚೆ ಬಂದ  ಡ್ಯೂಟಿ ಡಾಕ್ಟರ್ ಇವನ ಹೆಗಲ ಮೇಲೆ ಕೈ ಹಾಕಿ ಅವನನ್ನು ಅಲ್ಲೇ ಇದ್ದ ಸೋಫಾದ ಮೇಲೆ ಕೂರಿಸಿದರು. ಪರಿಸ್ಥಿತಿಯ ವಿವರಣೆ ನೀಡಿದರೋ ಏನೋ - ರಮೇಶನಿಗೆ ಯಾವುದೂ ಅರ್ಥವಾಗಲಿಲ್ಲ. 

"ಸೋ...ಮಿಸ್ಟರ್ ರಮೇಶ್.. ಮಿಸ್ಟರ್ ರಾಧಾಕೃಷ್ಣ ಈಗ ಲೈಫ್ ಸಪ್ಪೋರ್ಟ್ ನಲ್ಲಿದ್ದಾರೆ. ನೀವು ಹೇಳಿದಾಗ... ಯಾರಾದ್ರೂ ಕಡೆ ಬಾರಿ ನೋಡೋರಿದ್ರೆ....  " ರಮೇಶ ಡಾಕ್ಟರ್ ಅವರ ವಾಕ್ಯಗಳನ್ನು ಪೂರ್ಣಗೊಳಿಸಲು ಹಿಂಜರಿಯುತ್ತಿದ್ದುದನ್ನು ಗಮನಿಸಿದ. ಅವನೂ ತನ್ನ ತಾಯಿಗೆ, ರಾಘವನಿಗೆ ಈ ಸುದ್ದಿ ಹೇಳುವಾಗ ಹಾಗೆ ಮಾಡಬೇಕೇನೋ..? ಎಂದು ಯೋಚಿಸಿದ. 

ಸೌಜನ್ಯದ ಸಲುವಾಗಿ ಡ್ಯೂಟಿ ಡಾಕ್ಟರ್ ಇವನೊಂದಿಗೆ ಹತ್ತು ನಿಮಿಷ ಕೂತಿದ್ದರು. ಐ.ಸಿ.ಯು.ನ ನರ್ಸ್ ಬಂದು ಇವನನ್ನು ಒಳಗೆ ಕರೆದೊಯ್ದಳು. ಒಳಗೆ ಅಪ್ಪ ಲೈಫ್ ಸಪೋರ್ಟ್ ನಲ್ಲಿ. "ಆಪರೇಷನ್ ಆದ್ಮೇಲೆ ಅಪ್ಪನಿಗೆ ಜ್ಞಾನ ಬರ್ಲಿಲ್ವಾ?" ಕೇಳಿದ ರಮೇಶ್. ಇಲ್ಲ ಎಂದು ನರ್ಸ್ ತಲೆ ಅಲ್ಲಾಡಿಸಿದಳು. ಸಾವಿನ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ರಮೇಶ ಒಂದೆರಡು ಬಾರಿ ತಂದೆಯೊಡನೆ ಚರ್ಚಿಸಿದ್ದ. ಅವರಿಬ್ಬರಿಗೂ ಸಾವಿನ ಬಗ್ಗೆ ಕುತೂಹಲ. 

"ಕಡೆಯ ಕ್ಷಣದವರೆಗೂ ನನಗೆ ಜ್ಞಾನ ಇರಬೇಕು ರಮೇಶ.. ..ಸಾವು ಅಂದ್ರೆ ಏನೂಂತ ನನಗೆ ಗೊತ್ತಾಗಬೇಕು." ಎಂದು ಹೇಳಿದ್ದರು. 

"ಇಲ್ಲಪ್ಪ... ನನಗೆ ಆ ಅನುಭವವೇ ಬೇಡ.." ಎಂದು ಇವನು ಹೇಳಿದ್ದ.  

"ಬದುಕಿನಂತೆ ಸಾವು ಕೂಡ ಒಂದು ಅನುಭವ ರಮೇಶ..."ಎಂದಿದ್ದರು. ಅಂಥವರಿಗೆ ಜ್ಞಾನ ಹೋಗಿ ಎರಡು ದಿನವಾಗಿತ್ತು. ಬಾತ್ ರೂಮಿನಲ್ಲಿ ಜ್ಞಾನ ಹೋಗುವ ಮುನ್ನ ಅಪ್ಪ ಏನು ಯೋಚನೆ ಮಾಡುತ್ತಿದ್ದಿರಬಹುದು? ಇವನಿಗೆ ನೆನಪಾಗಿದ್ದು ಅಪ್ಪ ತಮ್ಮ ಊಟ ಮುಗಿಸಿ, ಸಂಧ್ಯಾಳನ್ನು ತೊಡೆಯ ಮೇಲೆ ಕೂರಿಸಿಕೊಂಡು ಮೊಸರನ್ನ ತಿನ್ನಿಸಿದ್ದು. ಯಾಕೋ ಏನೋ, ರಮೇಶ ಅದರ ಫೋಟೋ ತೆಗೆದಿದ್ದ. ಈಗ ನಿಶ್ಚಲವಾದ ಅವರ ದೇಹದ ಮುಂದೆ ನಿಂತು ಆ ಫೋಟೋ ನೋಡಿದ. 

ನಿಟ್ಟುಸಿರು ಬಿಡುತ್ತ ಐ.ಸಿ.ಯು. ನಿಂದ ಆಚೆ ಬಂದ . ಮನಸ್ಸು ಮುಂದೆ ನಡೆಯಬಹುದಾದ ಘಟನೆಗಳೊಂದಿಗೆ ರಾಜಿಯಾಗುತ್ತಿತ್ತು. ನಿರ್ವಾಹವಿಲ್ಲದೆ ಪುಷ್ಪಾಳಿಗೆ ಫೋನ್ ಮಾಡಿದ. ಬೇರೆಯೇನೂ ಹೇಳದೆ "ಅಮ್ಮನಿಗೆ ಕೊಡು" ಎಂದ.  ಸುತ್ತಿ ಬಳಸಿ ಮಾತಾಡುವುದು ಅಮ್ಮನಿಗೆ ಎಂದೂ ಇಷ್ಟವಿರಲಿಲ್ಲ. 

"ಅಮ್ಮ...ಅಪ್ಪ ಉಳಿಯೊಲ್ವಂತೆ. ಲೈಫ್ ಸಪೋರ್ಟ್. ಅವರನ್ನ ಕಡೆ ಬಾರಿ ಜೀವಂತವಾಗಿ ನೋಡೋದಿದ್ರೆ ಬಂದು ನೋಡ್ಲಿ ಅಂದ್ರು ಡಾಕ್ಟರ್." ಎಂದು ಒಂದೇ ಉಸಿರಲ್ಲಿ ಹೇಳಿ ಮುಗಿಸಿದ. ಅವನ ಎದೆ ವೇಗವಾಗಿ ಬಡಿದುಕೊಳ್ಳುತ್ತಿತ್ತು. ಅಮ್ಮ ಹೇಗೆ ಪ್ರತಿಕ್ರಿಯಿಸುವಳೋ ಎಂಬ ಭಯ, ಉದ್ವೇಗ. ಕೆಲವು ಕ್ಷಣ ಆ ಕಡೆಯಿಂದ ಯಾವುದೇ ಮಾತು ಕೇಳಿಸಲಿಲ್ಲ. ಅಮ್ಮ ಅಳುತ್ತಿರಬೇಕು. ಸದ್ಯ, ಅವಳ ಆರೋಗ್ಯಕ್ಕೆ ಏನು ತೊಂದರೆಯಾಗದಿದ್ದರೆ ಸಾಕು ಎಂಬ ಯೋಚನೆ ಹಾದು ಹೋಯಿತು. ಆ ಕಡೆ ಮತ್ತೆ ಅಮ್ಮನ ಧ್ವನಿ. 

"ಒಂದು ಕೆಲಸ ಮಾಡು. ನಾನೇನು ಬರೋದಿಲ್ಲ. ರಾಘವ ಬಂದಮೇಲೆ ನೀವಿಬ್ಬರೇ ಅವರನ್ನ ಕರೆದುಕೊಂಡು ಬನ್ನಿ.." ಎಂದು ದಿಟ್ಟವಾಗಿ ಹೇಳಿದಳು. 

"ಆದರೆ ಅಮ್ಮ.." ಎಂದು ರಮೇಶ ಶುರು ಮಾಡಿದ. 

"ಇಲ್ಲ ಪರವಾಗಿಲ್ಲ. ನಾ ಹೇಳಿದಷ್ಟು ಮಾಡು ರಮೇಶ.." ಎಂದು ಹೇಳಿ ಫೋನ್ ಇಟ್ಟಳು. 

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ಬೆಂಗಳೂರು ತಲುಪಿದ ರಾಘವ ಆಸ್ಪತ್ರೆಗೆ ಧಾವಿಸಿದ. ರಮೇಶ ಕೂತಿದ್ದಲ್ಲಿಗೆ ಬಂದ. ಇಬ್ಬರು ಒಬ್ಬರನ್ನೊಬ್ಬರು ನೋಡಿಕೊಂಡರು. ರಮೇಶನ ಮುಖ ನೋಡಿದಾಗಲೇ ರಾಘವನಿಗೆ ಅರ್ಧದಷ್ಟು ವಿಷಯ ತಿಳಿದು ಹೋಯಿತು. 

"ಸರಿ...ಏನಂತೆ ಈಗ?" ಕೇಳಿದ. 

"ಲೈಫ್ ಸಪೋರ್ಟ್, ಅಣ್ಣ. ನೀನು ಬರ್ಲಿ ಅಂತ ಕಾಯ್ತಿದ್ದೆ." ದುಃಖದಿಂದ ಹೇಳಿದ ರಮೇಶ. ಅಮ್ಮನಿಗೆ, ಪುಷ್ಪಾಳಿಗೆ ತೋರಿಸದ ಉದ್ವೇಗ ಅಣ್ಣನೆದುರು ಸರಾಗವಾಗಿ ಹರಿಯಿತು. 

"ನಾನು ಅವರನ್ನು ನೋಡಬಹುದ?" ಎಂದ ರಾಘವ, ಗದ್ಗದಿತವಾಗಿ. ನರ್ಸ್ ಇಬ್ಬರನ್ನೂ ಒಳಗೆ ಬಿಟ್ಟಳು. 

ಈ ಲೋಕದ ಪರಿವೆ ಇಲ್ಲದೆ ಮಲಗಿದ್ದ ಅಪ್ಪನನ್ನು ನೋಡುವುದು ರಾಘವನಿಗೆ ಕಷ್ಟವಾಯಿತು. ಅದರಲ್ಲೂ ವಾರದ ಹಿಂದೆ ಲವಲವಿಕೆಯಿಂದ ಮಿಡಿಯುತ್ತಿದ್ದ ಜೀವ. ಎಷ್ಟೋ ಹೊತ್ತು ಅವರನ್ನೇ ನೋಡುತ್ತಾ ನಿಂತಿದ್ದ.  ರಮೇಶನೇ ಮೌನ ಮುರಿದು, "ಇನ್ನೇನು ಮಾಡಲು ಸಾಧ್ಯವಿಲ್ಲ ಅಣ್ಣ. We should take a call" ಎಂದ. ಒಪ್ಪುವುದು ಕಷ್ಟವಾದರೂ ಅದು ಸರಿಯಾದ ಮಾತು ಎಂದು ರಾಘವನಿಗೆ ಗೊತ್ತಿತ್ತು. 

"ಅಪ್ಪನಿಗೆ ಈ ಸಾಯುವ ಹೊತ್ತು ,ಘಳಿಗೆ....ನಂಬಿಕೆಯಿತ್ತ?" ಕೇಳಿದ. 

"ಇಲ್ಲಣ್ಣ. ಸಾಯುವಾಗ ಜ್ಞಾನ ಇರಬೇಕು ಅಂತ ಆಸೆ ಇತ್ತು...ಅಷ್ಟೇ" ಅವರನ್ನೇ ನೋಡುತ್ತಾ ಹೇಳಿದ ರಮೇಶ್. 

"ಹೇಗೆ ಕಳಿಸಿಕೊಡೋದು? ಡಾಕ್ಟರ್ ಗೆ ಹೇಳಿದ್ರೆ ಎಲ್ಲ ಮುಗೀತಾ? ಅಷ್ಟೇನಾ?" ಕೇಳಿದ ರಾಘವ. ಒಂದು ಸಣ್ಣ ಮಾತು ಬದುಕಿಗೂ, ಸಾವಿಗೂ ಇರುವ ವ್ಯತ್ಯಾಸವ?

"ಅಷ್ಟೇ ಇರಬೇಕು..ಎಲ್ಲಾದ್ರೂ ಸಹಿ ಹಾಕಿಸಬಹುದು"

"ಇಲ್ಲ... I want to give him a proper send-off" ಹೇಳಿದ ರಾಘವ. ಎಲ್ಲೋ ಏನೋ ಅಪೂರ್ಣವಾಗಿತ್ತು. ಅಪ್ಪನಿಗೆ ಇಷ್ಟವಾಗುವ, ತನಗೆ ನೆಮ್ಮದಿ ತರುವುದನ್ನೇನಾದರೂ   ಮಾಡಬೇಕು ಎಂದು ಅವನ ಮನಸ್ಸು ಹಾತೊರೆಯುತ್ತಿತ್ತು. ಒಂದೈದು ನಿಮಿಷ ಚಡಪಡಿಸಿದ. ಬಳಿಕ ಅದೇನನ್ನಿಸಿತೋ ಫೋನ್ ತೆಗೆದು ಅವರ ಕಿವಿಯ ಪಕ್ಕದಲ್ಲಿಟ್ಟ. "ಜಗದೋದ್ಧಾರನ...ಆಡಿಸಿದಳೆ ಯಶೋಧೆ" ಎಂಬ ವಿಶ್ವಾಸ್ ನ ತೊದಲ್ನುಡಿಯ ಹಾಡು ಅವರ ಕಿವಿಯ ಮೇಲೆ ಬಿತ್ತು. ಅವರ ಅಸ್ತಿತ್ವದ ಯಾವುದೋ ಒಂದು ಭಾಗ ಮೊಮ್ಮಗನ ಹಾಡು ಕೇಳಿರಬಹುದು ಎಂದು ತನಗೆ ತಾನೇ ಸಾಂತ್ವನ ಹೇಳಿಕೊಂಡ. ಹಾಡು ಮುಗಿದ ಮೇಲೆ ಒಂದೆರಡು ನಿಮಿಷ ಅವರನ್ನು ನೋಡಿ 

"ನಡಿ ಹೋಗೋಣ ರಮೇಶ" ಎಂದ. ಇಬ್ಬರೂ ಐ.ಸಿ.ಯು. ನಿಂದ ಆಚೆ ಬಂದರು. 

ಡ್ಯೂಟಿ ಡಾಕ್ಟರ್ ಪತ್ರದೊಂದಿಗೆ ಸಿದ್ಧವಾಗಿದ್ದರು. ರಾಘವ, ರಮೇಶ ಮುಖಮುಖ ನೋಡಿಕೊಂಡರು. "ನೀನೆ ಸಹಿ ಹಾಕು" ಎಂದು ಹೇಳಿ ರಾಘವ ಮಾಲತಿಗೆ ಕರೆ ಮಾಡಲು ಹೋದ. 

ನಡುಗುತ್ತಿದ್ದ ಕೈಗಳಿಂದ ರಮೇಶ ಸಹಿ ಮಾಡಿದ. ಆ ಕ್ಷಣವನ್ನು ಅವನು ಮರೆಯುವುದು ಎಂದೂ  ಸಾಧ್ಯವಿರಲಿಲ್ಲ. "ಹೋಗಿ ಬನ್ನಿ ಅಪ್ಪ" ಎಂದು ತಂದೆಯನ್ನು ನೆನೆದು ಅಲ್ಲೇ ಇದ್ದ ಚೇರ್ ಮೇಲೆ ಕುಸಿದು ಕುಳಿತ....... 

                                                                                                    - 15th February 2022

Stories Of Death

Stories Of Death

"A well lived Life....looks forward to Death. A painless, sudden death. No suffering. When people around you don't feel you are a burden, financially or otherwise."  Ajji kept reiterating every time she got a chance. Her ever growing snow-white hair that she massaged with hot coconut oil filled in a coconut shell, dentures she had started using after making more than full use of her permanent teeth and her now cataract free eyes that she used to read news on television - betrayed anything but her age.  For us, listening to her talk about Death was almost a ritual every year when we went to the village. It evoked mystique, a sense of awe as she narrated how people from the family met their maker, and Ajji's timelessness. She remained constant across births and deaths - transcending generations - and perhaps would continue to.

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" I always sensed Death closing in on your Father" Ajji told my Mother, for the umpteenth time. It had happened thirty five years ago and the emotion had been sucked out of the incident long ago. For someone like me, who had never seen my Mother's Appa, Ajji's narration seemed to paint a picture of my Grand-Dad's death, just like other incidents painted a picture of his life.

"There was something ailing him mentally for quite a few months. He had lived a happy life. Sons and daughters were doing well. That premature death of your brother....may be" Ajji said, looking at my Mother. The mention of that premature death still tugged at our heartstrings - though we hadn't seen our uncle. 

"He probably had a premonition of his Death the previous evening. And it was all over...next morning"  Ajji said, her tone respectfully sombre. We had heard the story multiple times from her and also from my Mother. But we fell prey to the mystique, as always. "What happened Ajji...?" I asked, as the rest of the audience waited in silence.

"I suppose he had a minor heart attack that evening...almost as if Lord Yama was preparing the noose and was trying to find out how tight or loose it needs to be. He complained of severe chest pain. But by the time we reached him, he had recovered. 'I almost thought I'd die alone' he said, sobbing. I think he knew he'd die. But he didn't want to die without anyone by his side..." Ajji paused for effect, we thought. But we could see that there was a drop of tears at the corner of her eyes. It was unusual, but it didn't stop her flow.

"He was reluctant to go to town and visit the Doctor. But driver Ahmed wouldn't agree. He insisted on a check up. He drove your Grand-Pa to the town. Doctor Basappa never minced words. There were no machines or sophisticated equipment at that time in Mandya. He was still the best Doctor around. Basappa calmed your Grand-Pa down and re-assured him. But he took Ahmed to the side and told him there wasn't much time left for Grand-Pa. Ahmed at that time didn't realise "not much time" was a few hours. He didn't mention the conversation to us till way later. "

My Mother took over, invariably, at this point.  "Anna came back. He looked weak. The light was already gone from his eyes. We never realised that at the time. I'm glad he had a good meal that evening. And then, he insisted on all of us sleeping in the hall, with our beds next to each other. I'm sure he knew it. Or may be, he was just scared. Who isn't scared of Death?. We felt that night was crucial. Nothing was told to us - but we had a hunch. An eerie hunch, if you ask me. And slowly we drifted to an uneasy sleep."

"I'm glad I saw him pass." Ajji said, breaking the silence after my Mother's words. "I'm not sure why. But I'm glad. And I'm sure he felt at peace that his Mother was watching him pass. I didn't want to wake up the next morning and just discover that my son is dead. It was five thirty in the morning when I woke up. I peered through the mosquito net and found his breath becoming shallow. He looked at me. I could sense the helplessness. He didn't want to go. I  looked at him. And then he relaxed. Or so I thought. The helplessness was replaced by a blank face. I'd want to imagine it was peace. I was the one to bring him to his world....I bid him Goodbye"

                                                           ***********************

" Your Chikkamma was lucky to survive her first bout with Death" Ajji said, looking at my Father now. My father was especially attached to his Chikkamma (Mother's younger sister). He always felt pained talking about her death. But Ajji would never leave him alone. "You should talk about it, for you to forget the pain. She was living on borrowed time, at any rate" she said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"I remember that car ride from Mandya to Bengaluru, vividly. Chikkamma unconscious. You and I on either side. I took a handful of tablets and thrust it in her mouth. Poured a bottle of water so she swallowed them." My Father started. I almost knew the next sentence. "I was the reason why she lived twenty more years."

"It's all fate. Chikkamma had some unfinished business here. She wanted to see you married and happy. Her own sons married and happy. And may be watch some soaps on the new age colour television" This last statement was an addition to last year's narration. Clearly, Ajji was improvising too.

"But she was a fighter. Every time Yama dragged her to the hospital, she found the will to give him the slip and return home. I never saw her spirit fade. Except the final time she made her way to the hospital. The look she had on her face when her sons carried her on her chair to the car - I was sure she had given up the fight. Her final journey had begun that day. What happened a month later was more a formality."

Ajji certainly seemed more emotional this year than she had been in a while. Her voice was quivering as she narrated these incidents. But then, she took a weird pride in being in that unenviable position of having seen more deaths up close than any one else in the family. 

"She couldn't have been more helpless towards the end. She forgot names and people. Quiet, sedated and sleepy in the mornings. Manic and vengeful all of  a sudden in the night. Buried feelings and suppressed emotions burst forth unhindered.  She didn't want to take all the burden with her, perhaps."

"Talk about the last day and close it Ajji" Father insisted.

Ajji smiled and stared silently into oblivion. Her cataract free eyes couldn't hide the tears. 

                                                         ***********************

It had been a month since Ajji fell in the bathroom and broke her back. Doctors gave up hope on her being able to get up and walk again. The back injury did to her what Life could never do. 

She was shifted to a cot in the hall at our ancestral home in Mandya. Her spirit held fort the first couple of weeks. She was cheerful - hoping for -and making us hope for - a miracle. "It's just a broken back. I have rich grandsons who can get a golden rod fixed in my spine." But as more and more Doctors visited her and went back with grim expressions, she started fading. 

Tears streamed silently down her face, when no one was watching. The helplessness apparent in her face and voice. She felt ashamed when anyone tried to clean her up and help with a change of clothes or adult diapers.

"So... a couple of days before Chikkamma passed" she started, one evening. We didn't want Ajji to exert herself. But then we couldn't stop her from speaking. It was all she could do these days. 

"Chikkamma saw her dead husband beckoning to her, from outside the room. I was staying with Chikkamma for the night when this happened. I'm not sure where she found the energy, but Chikkamma got out of her bed and walked to the door. Talked to him for almost ten minutes. Then she walked back and slept. The most peaceful I had seen her sleep, after she was admitted to the hospital"

All of us were stunned. Ajji had never mentioned this in all these years. My father burst into tears and left the place. It took a while for us to calm down. And as we absorbed this incident, Ajji made an other revelation. "The other day when I stopped Chikkamma's story midway, I could see her beckoning to me from the other side of the room. "

                                                   *****************************

Ajji never spoke coherently after that. It seems her mind was made up. She refused to eat from the next day. Whether it was out of conscious decision or did her body start giving up  - we would never know. Weakness overpowered her quickly and she slipped to a semi-conscious state in a matter of days. And after that she consumed only teaspoons of water.

 About a week-ten days later, all of us got used to the new normal with her. We knew it was a matter of time. But we were not ready to give up easily on her. Doctors inserted glucose drips and we found improvements in her energy levels. "You have some unfinished business Ajji" we kept teasing her. She would give us a silent weak smile. She still wouldn't talk or eat. 

Our Sunday afternoon conversations took place around her cot ever since she was bedridden. That Sunday, after a long while, we could hear Ajji's voice. "Ice Cream. I want some Ice Cream". she said. We were thrilled. A couple of us ran to get her some ice cream from a nearby store. Ajji was smiling. Did miracles really happen? We wondered.  We took turns to feed her the ice cream that evening. She relished each spoon. She even managed to say "Thank You" in English. Clearly, there was some unfinished business holding her back.

                                              **********************************

Ajji passed a couple of days later. It wasn't the sudden death she had aspired. We sat around her as her breath became shallow. Now from the stomach, now from the lungs, now from the throat and the last couple of breaths from the mouth. She had closed her eyes long ago. So we couldn't understand what she had always meant, by "light disappearing from the eyes."

Over the next fifteen days, some of us took turns to read the Garuda Purana. The paperback version was stowed away in her trunk. She had to be the one reading it when someone passed in the family. 

Did she actually see Chikkamma beckoning to her that night? We wondered. Did she know her time was nearing? Ajji always held us in awe when she was alive.......she would hold us in awe in Death too!

                                                                                       

                                                                                  -     25th September 2019

                                              

The Bringer of Death

                                                   The Bringer of Death

People summoned Shivlingu when the doctors failed to predict what could happen. They called him 

"The Bringer of Death". His prediction was more of a verdict than even the doctor's opinion. If Shivlingu said "The patient will live", the patient would recover from any sickness and survive any disease.  

Shivlingu was a carpenter. A man of simplicity. When he was young, he travelled a lot with a Saint whom he called his Guru. The Guru was a man of science and knowledge while his followers believed he was a person with supernatural abilities. He could detect quite a few of the diseases - from the common flu to the more dangerous small pox and would treat the victims. Based on the patient's response to treatment, the Guru would predict if the patient would live or die in due course of time. While Shivlingu did not pick up the Science behind his Guru's methods of treatment, he definitely grapsed his prowess of prediction.

His abilities were well-known in the surrounding villages and towns. People and sometimes even local doctors just admitted to his superior and supposedly supernatural abilities. When Shivlingu walked a street with his notebook, the whole street held its breath. It meant Shivlingu was on duty. People prayed it was not someone on their street who had summoned him. 

Shivlingu would enter the house of the patient; ask for a glass of water. He then meditated for five whole minutes before setting his eyes on the patient. These five minutes were those of excruciating anxiety for the patient's family and the patient himself, if he was conscious. Most patients lost their nerve when they came to know Shivlingu was being summoned. Shivlingu would smile at the patient and check his pulse and the temperature of his body. Like any seasoned doctor, he would ask for the various symptoms. But somehow, he never inquired about medicines or treatment. After listening to them, he would summon one of  the family members outside and make his pronouncement.

People always made an observation. If Shivlingu opened his notebook and made some notes before talking to the family member, the patient would always die. If Shivlingu didn't open his notebook, the patient would live. Shivlingu knew people had made this observation, but he never talked about it. Nor changed his habit.  Sometimes, it was just enough that Shivlingu opened his notebook and made notes, for the entire household to burst out in grief. Nobody knew what was in the notebook though...and people never dared asking him.  

                                                 ..................................................................

                                          

Manjanna was a good friend of Shivlingu. At seventy years, he had already suffered a heart-attack twice. The doctors couldn't predict how long he had before the next one and if he would survive that. They had given instructions to just summon them, if there was a need.

"I have more confidence in your abilities Shivlingu, than those doctors'" Manjanna said. Shivlingu got worried.

"I hope I'd never have to see the day when I'm called to predict your death...." he said, in a sombre mood.

" We have to be practical. You never know. I need your help" Manjanna said, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"My son Vishnu has completed one year of his degree in America. He is coming here next month. If something happens to me while he's here....you must never predict my death. Can you promise me that?"

"I can never do that. But why do you ask of such a thing? He is your son....he has a right to know!"

"He'll never go back...if he comes to know I'm dying. He loves his family too much....but that degree was his dream, his ambition. I don't want him to discontinue it for my sake or his mother's and siblings' sake."

Shivlingu was in a state of conflict. He could never make such a promise. But Manjanna had his reasons. He remained silent.

                                              ........................................................................

Vishnu came back home for a month long holiday. His family was happier than ever and three weeks passed without incident. Shivlingu prayed the other week would pass without anything happening. But somehow, Manjanna must have seen it coming. Four days before Vishnu left, Manjanna collapsed while taking bath. He regained consciousness a couple of hours later. The family in the meanwhile, had already summoned Shivlingu.

Shivlingu had a bad feeling, even as he was informed that he had been summoned. He wished he could escape, citing he was not well. But he had never done it in his life. He made his way to Manjanna's house.

The family was huddled in front of Manjanna's bed. Manjanna was conscious, but weak. Shivlingu asked for a glass of water. Beads of sweat formed on his forehead, even as he drank the water. He tried to meditate, but could not concentrate. He kept his eyes shut pretending to meditate, as was his custom. He prayed for the whole of five minutes, hoping he would have to make a pronouncement saying Manjanna would live. 

He then proceeded to do the inevitable..examine Manjanna. One look at his eyes, Shivlingu knew Manjanna was not going to live. His face fell. He examined his pulse, hoping there was something positive about it. But it was weak. His eyes did not have the lustre..or the strength to indicate Manjanna had much time. Shivlingu knew his time was up. And probably Manjanna knew it too. When Shivlingu got up to leave, he made eye-contact with Manjanna. Those eyes had just one message for him.

Shivlingu waited for Vishnu to come out of the house with a heavy heart. Vishnu knew the drill too. He waited for Shivlingu to speak or open his diary. Shivlingu had never been in such a situation before. Nobody had asked him to give a wrong pronouncement before. He had never imagined being in such a position. And he never wanted to be in one. Yet, there he was now. When he looked at Vishnu, he felt he could see those dreams in Vishnu's eyes..those dreams Manjanna had talked about so proudly. But then, if he made a wrong pronouncement,he would be doing a disservice to those who trusted him, to his Guru from whom he had learnt everything. Shivlingu had to arrive at a decision. He did.

He opened his notebook and scribbled a couple of lines. Vishnu was terrified. Shivlingu then forced a smile and said "Don't worry Vishnu. Manjanna is going to be fine. He'll get better every day. You better complete your degree. He dreams of that..like you do...". Vishnu was confused. But then the pronouncement, he believed, was more important than his habit of  scribbling in the notebook. He went back inside the house, happy. Shivlingu returned home and prayed the whole night, hoping against hope, that Manjanna would survive and his pronouncement would actually come true. 

Manjanna survived. Infact, got better. Vishnu came to Shivlingu the next day and offered sweets. When Shivlingu visited Manjanna the next day, he was surprised to see him sitting on his bed. He was definitely better. But Shivlingu's instincts said his time was up. He just hoped Manjanna knew what was coming.

Vishnu left for America three days later. "Shivlingu, I'm going back peacefully. Your pronouncement is verdict. I'm sure Appa will get better. " were his parting words.

Manjanna died that night. His last wish apparently was that his death must not be communicated to his son at any cost. He had to find out only once he came back with his degree. 

The village was shocked. Nobody had yet heard of Shivlingu's pronouncements failing. Even as Manjanna's family soaked in grief, people rushed to Shivlingu's home. 

Shivlingu was found hanging from the ceiling. His notebook lay open in front of his Guru's picture.

"Manjanna will die. But I don't want to kill his dreams too.....

Forgive me."

           

                                                                                                    -19th March 2015

In Front of Death

In front of Death

I opened my eyes and stared at Death

The lustre of my life in His eyes

“Don’t fear Death when you’ve lived your life”

Or so had proclaimed the wise

In His eyes played the story of my life

The colour of my memories bygone

His arms slowly circled around me

Was it my time to move on?

I saw myself- a baby boy

Trying to touch the sky

My heart pumped with a million dreams

The well-spring of inspiration would never dry

To conquer the world with the vigour of youth

It was all mad exuberance and energy

And after many a success and failure

It was mind and body in synergy

Thoughts galloped like a mature steed

Action was not far behind

I chipped away at my goals with passion

As fame and fortune followed in kind

I stared into the eyes of Death

Who spread all the fear he could conjure

“Share my life for a day I said”

It was my turn to allure

 I had lived on the “Cloud Nine” of success

From which burst the rain of happiness

The droplets filled the ocean of contentment

It was a plan of God, executed with finesse.

I had conducted my life at will

A well-orchestrated symphony

If I were to embrace Death-it would be like brothers-

And, afterall, a last twist of Destiny.

                                                           

                                                            -11^th October 2013

A Second Chance.....

A Second Chance......

I died.It was in my sleep. A couple of seconds of strong intense pain and that was it! I thanked God for that.(I could do it personally now anyways!) I left my body behind and journeyed on. It was a clear, serene path that awaited me. Walls of gold on either side rose up to 15 feet, cutting off any noise. It was claustrophobic and lonely-yet I never felt so. It was as though there were travellers alongside. I could sense them, but not hear or see them. I glided across the path. I rather enjoyed the experience of levitating a few inches above the ground. 

After travelling for what seemed like a couple of hours I arrived at a fork. There was a signpost that read

 "The Newly Dead". It was obviously meant for people like me. I took the path. I glided for an other 10 minutes and arrived at a gate. I couldn't see beyond. There was a counter. The man behind the counter was dressed in a blue jacket and wore a white hat. His body seemed to have disappeared beneath the waist so he didn't need a trouser. Without even looking up he said " Name: ------; Date of Birth: -------; Date of Death: -----;

Type of Death: Tentative; Upon reading the last row, he looked up and looked at me for a whole second before declaring "Second right, third left. Room next to the dry banyan tree.Keep moving."

I wondered what all this meant. Was that room meant to by my final resting place in the other World? Did it mean I was never to go through the cycle of life and death again? With all these thoughts, I followed the man's instructions.

The room upon first look, didn't seem to lead anywhere.But there seemed to be a lot of light.Was it a cliff that would drop me to hell? There was just a thin curtain for an entrance. I parted it and entered the room. There was a single chair.I sat down on it. Suddenly, I was plunged into darkness. Then pictures and letters appeared on a screen.........

The Place You never went back: The screen showed my school. There I was. A small kid. My first teacher holding my hand to lead me into the class. Now a young boy- reciting a poem in front of the class as my teacher looked on. Then finally, a smart teenager as I passed out. My teachers clapping me all the way as I received my certificate. I had never managed to go back and visit the place again. I remembered promising my teachers I'd come back and report my progress in life, every summer. Many summers had come....and gone. Now I was dead. I could never go back...even if I wanted to......."I wish I could go there and say goodbye!" I said to myself. "You will" I thought I heard someone whisper. Or may be it was a trick of the wind!

The Apology You never accepted: The visual brought with it a surge of guilt. I could see my friend apologising to me profusely over something he had done. Admittedly it had hurt me a lot- but was not something I couldn't forgive. He had persisted for 2 years now. He had meant a lot me before the incident. But I was so devastated that to forgive was something I couldn't think of. He had messaged even last night. I had seen it before going to sleep. I felt terrible. I felt the need to talk to him. Someone wise has said "People who commit mistakes are more deeply hurt than the ones who bear those mistakes". The guilt was piling up every passing moment......

The Truth You never told: My mother was waiting for me at the door. She hadn't slept the whole night. She'd been waiting for me. I had told her I'd be late. But I was so drunk the night before that I couldn't think of going home in that state. I slept at a friend's house and came back home in the morning. I saw her waiting at the door. I knew she was a worried soul. I simply said "Sorry" and went to the bathroom to get rid of the 

foul smell I was reeking of. Characteristic of her, she never discussed it again. I had thought that she didn't know that I drink occasionally. But now the visual showed her discussing it with Dad. They were planning to confront me in the open this morning. Alas! They'd be in for a shock.....

The Gamble You should never have taken: It was the cricket field. Our team was battling for a spot in the finals in a tournament. I was the captain. We had to defend 10 runs in the last over to win the semis. I still had an over left. But in an adventurous zeal, handed the ball to a lesser known bowler. We lost the game. A portion of the team identified it as a tactical blunder. The rest, a lack of courage on my part to bowl the last over. Only I knew it was a gamble that didn't come off. The team that defeated us was beaten badly in the finals-it compounded my regret. I still replayed the game in my mind every night to my last one.

The Habit You never kicked: The screen showed me with my worst habit-Procrastination. I cleaned half my wardrobe and postponed the rest for the next day. I completed half my assignment and never bothered to do the rest. Too many things left half done came to my mind, that I had postponed to some later date and never exactly came back to completing them. The song I was learning to play on the guitar, the old-age home I was planning to visit for an eternity, the membership at the gym I promised myself every first day of a month....so much was left unfinished. What hurt me the most was that I postponed writing the climax of the story that I had so longingly written. I had planned to do it tomorrow night.......

The Words You never said: It was to her. The screen showed her looking at me deeply in the eye. Waving at me intently. I knew we would click. Yet I couldn't pluck the courage to say those important words. I had told them to girls who didn't care and didn't mean a damn to me, in hindsight..but somehow, not to her. I still remember that long gaze of longing she had given me on what probably was the last day when she probably thought I'd muster the courage to go speak. I could not. Courage overflowed months later. But I learnt she was firmly committed. I would never blame her. I would only blame myself. Regret clouded my heart: "Will I get an other chance?" I asked aloud. I wanted to live again, and say those words to her. "We'll think about it" I swear I heard someone say this. I jumped around. But there wasn't anyone there.

The Risk You never took: The screen showed me acting. It was probably my second passion in life-after cricket. I could see people watching me act with an intensity that matched the intensity of my acting on stage. I received lots of awards, tonnes of praise. Some people went on to predict I'd be a bigger success in theater than I ever was in academics. I was buoyed by all this to think of a career as an artiste. But somewhere I felt the pull of the security a normal academic life would give me. A good engineering degree from a decent college- I could lead a life with a luxurious lifestyle. I had conveniently chosen lifestyle over life. The work I now did had no life in it. And it didn't give me the time to relish my so-called lifestyle........

The Life You never Lived: The visuals showed a below par me- someone who could achieve lots, but was never motivated enough to do so. Lack of intent,courage and adventure plagued me. I dragged myself through the day and never really took charge of my life. My life meandered along its own course without a thrust that mattered. What had started like a waterfall of energy in school had become a rivulet, trying to find the sea-where it could happily merge and disappear into oblivion. It couldn't even achieve that-I remembered my life had ended last night. I probably deserved it.........................

I buried my head in my hands. I was aghast. I felt terrible. The lessons I had never learnt in life- death had taught me in 3 hours. I wished I was alive. I wished I could correct all those mistakes. Lend a sense of completion to my life.....

Suddenly the lights came on. "Please leave the room" the screen said.

I glided out slowly. There was a small board with my name on it. "Please sign here" it said. I looked for a pen. I suddenly felt a sting on my right index finger. It was a small prick. Blood started oozing. I got the message and signed the board in blood. The cut healed in a moment. The signature disappeared and a message appeared. "Please collect your mission from the Secretary, Department of Tentative Deaths".

"So I have some work here too!" I thought. I glided across to the Department of Tentative Deaths. The secretary was a queer guy.Only his head was visible. I wanted to ask him why. Yet felt it wasn't the right time to do so. "Er...my Mission??" I asked, a little nervous. The secretary handed me a sheet of paper.

Without even looking at me, he said "You've left a lot of your responsibilities incomplete on Earth. You don't fit in Heaven or in Hell. Fill this sheet with your goals every night and complete them the next day. The night you don't fill, you go to Hell. The day you don't achieve those set goals, Hell comes to you. A Tentative Death guy is given a second chance. You've got one. Use it well."

He pushed a lever. Within moments, I traveled back to my body. I could sense my eyes prickling as the rays of the early morning sun hit my room. I couldn't understand if the whole thing had been real or was just a dream.It was too real to be considered a dream. Yet was too dream-like to be considered real. I got up from my bed. A sheet of paper I seemed to be clutching fell on the floor..........

                                                                                                  -10th June 2013

-Everyday, Life gives us a second chance....or probably a last one....



  

When Death comes to Pass........

When Death comes to Pass........

Death had descended.He had done so in his inimitable way-quiet and sudden.This was an approach he used when he did not want his victim to feel his wrath-not entirely atleast.He spread his blanket of sorrow over the household and those bereaved choked under it.He started observing..........

His victim was a mother.She had 3 children.The eldest 10 years.The youngest 4 years.The husband bore a dignified silence.After all,he wasn't expected to lose his control over himself....he was a man.He was expected to make sure that those arriving shortly for one final glimpse of the lady were treated properly-arrange coffee and snacks if possible.

The kids were too young to understand the seriousness of the situation.When the youngest had woken up in the middle of the night,her mother was sleeping with a tender smile on her lips.Now it was almost afternoon.She was still sleeping,sans the smile.The daughter decided that her mother definitely looked better with a smile and went about her routine.Only,she could not understand why her mother was sleeping beyond breakfast time today.

The other two children were at school and had been sent for.The eldest arrived first.He could understand his mother was dead,but it was not actually a bereavement for him.His mind was involved in all sorts of permutations as to how this could affect his daily routine and at a most profound moment,he felt there was no one else to take care of him when Father left for work.He could see a few relatives sobbing around him.He felt he was expected to cry too....but hunger took over and he went inside.

Friends of the husband arrived in a group.Most of them had not seen his wife when she was living.All they could do was pat the husband on his shoulder without uttering a word,for they did not want any statement to be taken in the wrong sense.Diplomacy came first.A few who had the courage just asked "How did this happen?" or "How have your children taken this?"or in a most mundane way, asked "Did you have a coffee atleast?"....The husband could not think of a response most times.Not that anybody wanted him to,either.There was a fire burning in every cell of his body....yet he had to be calm and dignified,inspite of himself.

Then the elders took over.Death throws up leaders out of unexpected people.There are people to decide the course of action.People who decide what happens when,who is the priest to be called,what are the rituals to be performed and more importantly who must perform the rituals.The council unanimously decided that the eldest son must perform the rituals since his thread ceremony was over.No sooner the announcement was made,two aunts of the child went in to brief him about his responsibilities.Thankfully better sense prevailed and the husband volunteered to perform the last rites himself.

A pall of gloom engulfed the household.There the husband was,clad in a dhoti in a sombre mood,trying to get through the last rites before he had to send her away forever.The children were crying now,more influenced by the unhealthy commotion around them.There was their maternal grandmother who was lamenting that she was unfortunate enough to see the birth and death of her daughter........

Ten days had passed.In a corner of the living room was a framed photograph of the mother.The youngest was talking to it.The other two children had started going to school the day after the death.The husband was almost his usual self to the outside world.Little did anyone know that each night his resolve burst and he cried eternally after putting the youngest to sleep,answering her curious questions about mother.In some corner of his parents' mind, a buzz had begun about getting their son married again.On the one hand,he felt a crushing anger about them.On the other he knew it was just blind affection..........

Death patted himself on the back for his handiwork.When he was there as expected,people almost brushed him aside.But when he was at his stealthiest,he was respected,almost revered.Having successfully cast a lasting impression on this household,Death finally left with his blanket of sorrow- tucked under his powerful arm- for future use.

And no sooner had he left,the household saw the birth of a beautiful girl child.....

-To a Mother survived by her children