Extract From My Life - Story

Extract from My Life-story ...

After some time Shantanu excused himself and walked to the rest room. When he returned, there was a worried look on his face and because he looked at me, I knew it was something about me.
Suddenly, thoughts of all sorts attacked my mind. What could be wrong?
“Shraddha.” Shantanu said and turned to look outside.
I got up, shocked. I looked at Roshan and I could see the fear in his eyes. Fear of losing me, I thought. Shantanu then told us that he had seen Shraddha on his way to the rest room. She was sitting outside the Intensive Cardiac Care Unit. Something shattered inside me. Dad! I shouted and rushed out of the room without even realizing that coming face to face with Shraddha would give rise to many unanswered questions. For a moment, I forgot everything. Forgot what had happened between us before I ran away from the house.

Shantanu followed me and showed me the place where he had seen Shraddha. She was not there now. I walked close to the Intensive Cardiac Care Unit, dreading what I was going to see next. Through the square piece of the glass on the metal door, I could see the face of the man I had loved all my life before Roshan came along. Tears gathered in my eyes and it was difficult for me to concentrate any further. I sat down on the bench. I wanted to wash out the memory of what I had just seen… Dad surrounded by various tubes. A machine monitored his heartbeat and a respirator assisted him to breathe. I hid my face in my palms and started crying. Someone placed a hand on my shoulder and without even seeing who the person was; I went into the person’s arms. The person held me in his comforting arms and consoled me. That person was Shantanu. From the corner of my eyes, I saw Roshan looking at us from one end of the corridor. I thought he would come close to me and console me but instead of doing anything of such sort, he turned around and walked away. That was the first time I saw a glimpse of the other side of Roshan.

I closed my eyes and when I opened them again, I almost jumped in shock as I saw Shraddha standing in front of us. She had a bag of medicines in her hand
“What are you doing here?” she asked me in a rasp voice.
“Came to see Dad”
“Cool! Saw him? Now leave.”
“Please di…” before I could continue further she turned to go inside the room.
“I want to talk to him.”
“No. Thank you very much”
“You cannot do this to me.”
“You … you and you! It has always been you! Right? You felt this way, you concluded this, you decided this and you did this and now you want to come back in our lives.”

I watched silently. I had not seen Shraddha reacting like this. At least not with me! In spite of all the wrongs I had done all my life, she never spoke to me like this. This meant she was deeply hurt and worried. She closed the door in my face and as I stared through the glass piece, I saw her walking towards the bed and placing the bag of medicines on the side-table. Suddenly, I saw the look of horror on her face and in spite of being thrown out of their lives; I decided it was time to go in. I pushed the door open. There was silence in the room apart from an eerie sound emanating from the machine. I could feel the heaviness in the room, could smell the unpleasant odor of death. Suddenly the room echoed with Shraddha’s screams and involuntarily I ran towards her and took her in my arms. This time she did not push me back. She wrapped her arms around me and we both cried over the death of our father. The father I had killed.

Doctors and nurses came rushing to the room and tried resuscitation, but it was late. Before the doctor closed my father’s eyes, I saw that the eyes were looking towards the door, which meant that he had seen me. Seen his daughter, his culprit, for the last time before walking past the gates of heaven! Suddenly, a fear gripped my mind, a fear that did not make sense at that time nevertheless, it gripped my mind and heart and soul. I wondered whether I would get a place next to him, in heaven or I would burn in hell, for I was responsible for the death of the person who had given me life.

Synopsis and Teaser of My Life-story

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Depression is REAL

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