To Death-In Happiness

A Small Story that I wrote a few days ago...Thought it fits in the blog.

The mail man was staring- transfixed at the site that had just occurred right in front of him. The public transport bus had come to a halt. That blue sedan driver was staring through his wind shield, staring at the bonnet with shock on his face.

And then there was this man- dressed n what looked like well to do clothes, sprawled on the sedan’s bonnet-sandwiched between the sedan and his own motorcycle.

Suddenly, as a hundred eyes watched, the man slowly lifted his head and looked at the driver. 

Five Months Earlier

The procession was breaking up.  A few older people were offering a last word of condolences and gradually moving on. Shashwat stood there- thanking everyone for coming. With everyone gone- he went on to look one more time at his family- or rather as he reminded himself- his deceased family.

They were there-lying solemnly with each other. How he wished that he could join them, lying nestled with his cute two year old daughter, or lie in that warmth embrace with his wife.  People called him lucky, for not being there when the gas leak occurred. He, he would have given up everything possible to be there- to have moved on with them.

As days passed by, Shashwat wandered aimlessly through life. He had given up his lucrative job, had cut off from all worldly pleasures and somehow, had forgotten how to smile. It was one of those aimless days, when he chanced upon a small boy- begging for food. Shashwat then realized what he could do, help the needy.

Two Months Earlier:

That one experience had given him some kind of a life. From the brooding, silent guy, he was slowly becoming the old Shashwat- the guy who helped the needy, volunteered for any kind of charitable work and had a special affection for children. People liked him, he liked people- but that emptiness had not deserted him. He still never smiled- was not at peace with himself.

Present Day:

Shashwat was going for another of his volunteering assignments. He stopped at the traffic light- when that same young boy came running to him. Breathless, the young boy said, “Sir, when is the next class? I was there in the last class when you taught poems”.

For what looked like after an eternity- Shashwat smiled, looking at the young boy, now running towards his shelter. As the light turned green, he started to move, not noticing the speeding blue sedan, presumably looking to catch the light.

The mail man came running towards the scene. Suddenly, as a hundred eyes watched, the man slowly lifted his head and looked at the driver. As people rushed towards the man, he suddenly collapsed. The mail man, with his heart in his mouth, turned the man’s face upwards- and gasped.

A small smile; was plastered on the now hollow face.