Page 13 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

I helped Dad to lie her on the bed. “Mom, you should go back to the hospital right away,” I said. “You
are sick.”
“I want to stay with you,” she said with a faint smile. “Just for the day.”
“Let her stay here for a while,” my dad replied. “I will take her back in the evening.”
I went to school that day. At recess, I played football with my friends. “Here, Shyam, pass it to me.” As
the sun hooked its claws into my skin, I ran after the ball, out of breath. “Come on, pass it on to me,
Shyam!”
All of a sudden, someone dragged me from behind. I turned, irritated. “Who the hell is—”
I looked into the red, swollen eyes of my dad. Somehow, he could not bring himself to speak. He
clasped my hands and trembled.
“What’s the matter, Dad?” I said, gaping. “What is going on?”
“Mom passed away, my son,” he said. “She left us.”
“Mom passed away?” I blurted in disbelief. “That can’t be possible.”
“She left us, son.” He dragged me out of the circle of my gathered friends. “Come, let’s go home.”
“What happened, Dorji?” asked Mrs. Kencho the class teacher, leaning against the balustrade.
“His mom passed away, madam,” said Shyam.
“Oh, no!” she said. “You may go, please.”
We hurried home. All along the way, I visualized my mom still panting in her bed. I hadn’t experienced
the death of my family members. Body trembling, I took a second to wonder what it’d be like to see my
mom in stillness, breathless, passed away. From a distance, I heard the cries of my granny and my heart
thudded as I got closer to home. I couldn’t believe it. No, she can’t leave us, I insisted in screaming
thoughts.
Dad led me through the dark entrance. “Come,” he said.
“I can’t,” I replied, leaning against the door. “Oh, God!”
Dad dragged me inside and forced me to sit down near my mom.
I stared down at the lifeless remains of the body that had borne me, nourished me, laughed with me,
and loved me. That moment, I felt the aura of misery tightening my heartbeat. I wanted with all my might
but I couldn’t cry. Gently, I removed the burial shroud from her face. Dear me. Her lifeless eyes were
fixed on the ceiling and a streak of hair had fallen across her cold and rubbery cheeks. She looked more
content in death than ever in life. I hid my face in my hands and sobbed, unable to believe she had passed
away. “Oh, Mom! You can’t die. Please don’t leave us.”
Butter lamps flickered above her head and cast elongated shadows on the walls. I couldn’t believe I was
losing such an angel. She had been a compassionate and beautiful mother. She helped the needy and did
everything to ease their problems.
At the break of dawn, my father woke us. “Let’s take the cadaver,” he said.
“Where, Dad?” I asked.
“Follow me,” he said. “We must take it away before people see us.”
He carried Mom’s body on his back through the alley. Soon we wobbled up a hill covered with waist-
high grasses. Except for the rustle of leaves, nothing stirred.
“Light the butter lamp,” said Dad.
I lit a small butter lamp and placed it above Mom’s head. The smell of incense and the chanting of the
layman reminded me of the transient life. “Dear me, life is too short,” I muttered.
Dad’s colleagues and the bank manager visited us in the afternoon.
The manager patted Dad’s shoulder. “Sorry about your loss. Our deepest condolences, Mr. Phugay.”
Dad sat tight-lipped. People walked up to him and offered their condolences, but Dad neither spoke
nor raised his head. He sniffled.
“Have you arranged the astrologer?” asked the bank manager.
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