Page 40 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

It was an expensive jeans pant, Pepe brand. If I had to buy, it’d have cost me over five hundred ngultrums.
“Thank you, sir,” I said and walked home with the jeans tucked under my arms. I still couldn’t believe it. “Did he
say I can keep the jeans?”
On the football ground a few days later, Baggio gawked at me. “How serious are you with Aunty?” he said.
“You mean Nyingthenma?” I said. “Why, buddy?”
“Because you’re chicken-hearted.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Excuse? What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I see nothing but a joke.” His face went serious. “You make yourself a laughingstock.”
“Don’t beat around the bush. Tell me.”
“Why don’t you propose to her?” he said, looking straight into my eyes. “She likes you.”
I guffawed. “You must be joking, right?”
“Seriously, dude.”
“No way, buddy.”
“Why?”
“I can’t,” I said, remembering Yethrolma’s pretty face. “Nyingthenma deserves better than me.”
“Grow up, buddy,” he said. “The world is too small for her.”
“Excuse me?” I said. “Did you say—”
“See, just propose to her before it’s too late. All the guys are after her.”
“Calm down, buddy. There’s a big misapprehension. I want to stay as a friend to her, okay?”
His eyes met mine and sighed in disappointment. “Are you sure you don’t want to—”
“Don’t worry,” I said. “Everything is gonna be fine.”

***

It was early spring, and flowers were in their full bloom. The birds chirped their stunning tones. And flamboyant
wings of insects added splendor to the garden. The surroundings appeared mesmerizing.
Everything was fine until my two-year-old half-brother brought great concern to us. He was getting worse with
time.
“I think he is getting worse, Dad,” I said. “Why don’t you take him to the hospital?”
“I am not sure,” he said. He looked stressed out. “Okay, I think we should show him to a doctor.”
“Why is Step-mom not with him?” I said.
“I don’t know what to do,” he said.
“He looks malnourished,” I said. “Step-mom has to feed him milk.”
We took him to the hospital right away.
“The baby is malnourished,” said the doctor. “We must admit him.”
“Is it necessary to admit him, doctor?” asked Dad.
“What do you mean?” said the doctor. “We have to.”
“Admit the baby, please,” I said. “Right away.”
The baby didn’t get better even after two weeks with IV and medication. He panted. Step-mom’s mother, Abi
Wangmo, came from the village.
After school, I would go to the hospital to see him.
“Ugyen,” I said, waving my hand. “Look at me.” I choked on a lump to see such an adorable baby battling for
life. “How’re you feeling?”
He wailed.
The next day, Dad came home and sobbed, kneeling on his knees. “Ugyen passed away.”
“What?” I flung the book. “Let’s go.”
The nurses were removing the nasal tubes. Abi Wangmo was sniffling beside the body. I tried not to cry. Poor
Ugyen lay in the bed in what seemed like a peaceful sleep. When I couldn’t bear it anymore, I knelt beside Abi
Wangmo and sniffled.
“Please don’t cry, grandma,” I said, embracing her.
“Stop crying, boy,” said a man from behind. “What’s the plan now?”
I got up and wiped the tears. “I don’t know. Dad would decide on it.”
The doctor patted Dad’s back. “Sorry, we couldn’t save the baby.”
Dad covered his face in his coarse hands and sniffled all he could.
“You must take the body out now,” said the nurse.
“Where should we take him?” I said.
The nurse said, “You can keep it at the end of the exit. Take it in the morning.”

40