Tuesday, 2 August 2016
THE WAIT... A micro story
Like every day, he was here, opposite the pillar No. 2345 on the India- Pakistan border as early as the sun appeared on the horizon. The eight-kilometre walk from his village Barmer was taxing for his old legs.
The tremulous gaze of his stone-still eyes fought with the dying hope of seeing his son alive again and the dazzling sunlight. Strong wind barged its way across the border shoving his beard to flick against his suffering chest and sticking straws to it as if to tease him.
Two months have passed since his only son, Jaidev had forayed into the territory of Pakistan. The village apothecary had told that the panacea which could save his ailing mother was found exclusively at nearby Pakistan village. The father tried to stop him but failed.
Since his wife died forty days ago, he came here every day and waited for his son.
‘You’re taking too long for a journey of twenty kilometres, Jaidev. Come back, son. Come back before I leave,’ he would mumble throughout the day.
Prolonged uncertainty over his son’s life haunted him. The sun started with him, soared up slowly, shone over his head and then drowned far in the West, snatching away some breaths from his feeble hope every time.