Day 366:

I blinked hard to get rid of the tears. I knew that this was probably the last time I was going to see him, but I didn’t want to cry. I was hoping against all hope so that he wakes up next morning. The doctors were using some complicated words to describe what has happened to him, but all I could see was blood. It was all over him and it made him look like a different person. It was probably all over me too.

I needed him to wake up. I wanted to be able to feel his warmth in my hands when he holds them. I wanted to feel my day becoming just that brighter when I hear his voice. I wanted to look into his eyes one last time.

Just to say goodbye.

Day 367:

The next morning when I stepped into his room, he was a jumble of pipes and tubes. They were in his mouth; they were in his neck, on both his arms. It seemed as though he was a part of all those machines around him, beeping and humming, softly and constantly. The only things that still looked like him were his closed eyes and his huge messy hair. I ran my hand through it – it felt the same way it did last night, as if nothing has changed. I leant forward and kissed him on his forehead as cautiously as I could.

Taking his hand, I sat down beside him. They were not as warm as they usually were. But they will warm up soon, I know. His eyes weren’t moving under those eyelids. I could barely see his chest rising and falling. But what I could hear was my world threatening to fall apart.

I took a deep breath and shook my head. No, this is not how it ends. Of all the ways he could abandon me, he would not choose this. He would never do this to me.

Last night, seeing him like that, I was so sure of what was about to happen. I felt like I was prepared to do this, no matter what I was going through. I was ready to say goodbye. But right now, I cannot seem to comprehend how I’m supposed to do this. How am I just supposed to bid farewell to this person, being fully aware of the fact that I would never see him again? How am I to accept the fact that this one person, who made my life worth living, wasn’t going to be around anymore?

He isn’t saying goodbye to me. Maybe, that is because he doesn’t want to. So why should I? Even if I do, can he hear me? Can he hear me bidding him farewell, even when he doesn’t want to go?

No.

He will wake up.

He will wake up.

He will wake up.

Maybe I was blinking so hard because I felt that if I do it right, I’ll wake up from this nightmare.

 

 

Day 1:

My umbrella wasn’t doing anything to protect my new shoes from getting ruined. I could barely hold it upright, while managing my backpack filled with my notes and some big books I issued from the library, my assignment file which was too big for my backpack, and also a bag which had a birthday gift for my friend. It has been pouring this same way for 45 minutes and I had been standing here for the last 15 of them. And it just wouldn’t stop.

My sister said she was going to pick me up on her way home from work. It was quite evident that she was running late. My day clearly could not get any worse. I needed to get home as soon as possible. I had this assignment to finish with the help of the books that I got. Standing here in the rain, wasting all this time wasn’t going to help me at all.

I was just about to curse aloud, when I saw someone come and stand beside me. He was a boy who looked like he was my age, wearing a black t-shirt and blue jeans. He didn’t have any umbrella with him and was sopping wet. Unlike me, he was quite enjoying the rain. He was standing a few feet away from me and I couldn’t help feeling jealous of him. Here I was, wanting to get home more than anything, and there he was, looking up at the sky and smiling at the raindrops falling on his face.

I didn’t realize I was staring at him until he looked back at me. I looked away immediately, but he didn’t seem annoyed. I could feel his eyes on me as he noticed all the baggage I was carrying.

‘You need any help with that?’

His voice was laced with some kind of a contagious happiness. When I looked at him, his eyes lit up, and his smile widened.

There was something about him, his short wet hair, his bright eyes, and his joyous smile, which made me speechless for a while. The skip in his step and the way he was looking down at me, peering through his hair, made me want to look at him some more. I could feel my shoulders relaxing as a small smile spread across my own face.

It was unbelievable to me, how happy he seemed. There was hardly a soul out on the street; there was no sign of any taxis or buses or autos nearby; every window in every building on either side of this road was shut; there was hardly any shop open. We were both standing in this dead wet street, about to get waterlogged any minute now.

What was he so happy about?

On the other hand, I forgot to think whether I really needed any help or not. He was patiently waiting for my answer, with the same smile, for quite some time now.

I had organized my thoughts with a lot of effort, and I was about to say something, when a familiar annoying horn distracted us.

My sister had remarkable timing! She stopped the car right in front of me, and screamed, ‘Get in!’

I quickly blurted out to the boy, ‘It’s fine!’

After making my way inside, I paused for a moment to look at his smile one last time. Sighing, when I finally shut the door, I saw him take his hand from inside his jeans pocket and wave me goodbye. My sister had already pulled away before I could wave back.