Page 9 - FATE & DESTINY

FATE & DESTINY

1 YOU LIVE IN MY MEMORY

Mom had been lying in bed for months, panting and covered in sweat all day. Sitting beside her every single moment
of the day was Dad, her faithful husband.
One evening, Mom beckoned me to her bedside. She grunted as she tried to sit up. “You are my eldest son, still
innocent and too young to understand, yet, you will realize your duties after I am gone. Promise me you will look
after your younger brothers.” Her eyes immediately shifted to my father. “Take care of our kids after I am gone,
please.”
Dad held her hands and answered tearfully, “Please don’t say that. You will recover.”
Phub Dorji and Tashi Wangchuk, my younger brothers were sobbing on my lap. Tightly embraced, we cried,
wetting our arms in despair.
When Mom’s health deteriorated with each passing day, Dad took her to the hospital. A few days later, my
maternal grandparents came from the village to help me with the household chores. Then, one midnight in April,
the wind howled and the dogs barked outside.
“What a bad omen!” I mumbled to myself, peeping through the interstice of the window. The footsteps echoed
from the walls of the opposite buildings. Soon I heard heavy sighs approaching. What was going on? I pricked my
ears up, hoping nothing had happened to Mom. Terrified, I buried my head into my pillow to delay the painful truth.
Knock! Knock!
Who on earth would knock on the door at such time? I thought, holding my breath. Who?
Knock! Knock!
“Who is it?” I asked.
“Dad.” Someone replied, puffing. “Hurry, open the door.”
I crept out of my bed. “What’s—?”
“Lend me your hand, would you?” Breathing in desperate short gasps my dad was standing in front of me
holding my mother.
“Oh, no! Why did you bring her home, Dad?” I said with a wide-open mouth. “She’s in a critical state.”
“She wanted to come home,” he said, “to see you all.”
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.”
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