"Did he find a way ?"
The old woman shook her head. "We lost him too. He went mad. My poor mother unable to reason with a mad man and the decreasing kindness of the townsfolk took me back home. Raju was already dead, we buried him on the estate, but my father would not listen. He roamed the streets holding an old lamp asking directions, sometimes he would look for himself. He had completely lost his mind"
"My mother, she had rejected every good dream from then on. She worked as a teacher day and night. Finally handling the management side of a school Bangalore constructing the attitude of self reliance in me and her students. She built our courage up, to fight and to live a honest life. Now I cannot promise you all the same safe future in my sunset years."
" I am no nation, no hero or saint but I am history. "
" Am I history too ?" asked Madhu.
"Yes you are monkey. We cannot help but be, we carry with us all of time, if only in bits, so I don't know how I will see his wife and tell her I am sorry I chose to stay by my principles than help my own son."
"I burnt the mirror, Kumar, your father asked for it many times. I told him we would survive and this wasn't the end of it, I even lied, I lied that I foresaw it in the mirror. But I never did, I wanted to build a present, but I cannot promise a future to the people I love anymore. I am sorry. I burnt it, I don't want the madness I heard from all of them, I have no affinity to rule a nation or protect my class. You are my people. I know we can build something beautiful if we work on it. My life is evidence, these kids are our banners that will fly high. But I don't know how much longer that will be true. I am afraid this isn't enough."
"Maa" and Madhu hugged her grandmother from the back. It was an attempt to smother the uncomfortable fire before it spread to everyone's neck of the woods.
The rest of the travel was mostly silent. Contemplation of memories with callous emotions, one tearful while another forces a smile in retrospect. Every moment of it replayed till it fits some unconscious need, hollow or rigid judgments passed. Occasional threads of worry trace back to present, rather a worry of the near future. The flashing of larger headlights and harsh honking struck the group out of trance. It started with whispers by the now awake children who requested for snacks or a stop to pee. Each acknowledged and reasoned with by the same statement "We will be reaching the hospital soon".
The finality of a pause to the car and cold of the 8 pm in December in the Garden city of the country. The roads were orange with streetlights, the hospital stood defiant gray but quiet. They stepped through the one open to hear a call. There was an urgency to the walk, couple of older cousins stood downstairs with puffy eyes. They stepped into the lift while passing comments on the traffic and dismissed apologizes while acknowledging small favors.
2nd floor the lift opened its doors to cries. The wail had a tiredness to it, it made the newcomers clench their jaw in defiance against the tears. Except the children, tears came easy to them, they cried by the time they reached their relatives. Forgotten family friends stood in different clothes shaking their heads with crossed arms, few were on a call delaying plans for the night. A sudden scene taking place inside caught the murmur of misery.
"Why do you have to behave like a brat today as well ? Your dad is dead and here you are being a menace, disgracing him and me. Did we not teach you anything ? Do you think he will be happy to see you like this ?" and following slaps were interrupted by a woman's hand.
"Akka, calm down she is a kid."
"No look at her, just look at her ! She's not even sorry. Even my death won't change you." said the woman stomping away.
The kid ran out past the family holding her right hand to her face. The kids chased after their cousin. The party entered.
"What happened?"
"She stole the reports and is showing people around. I don't understand what to do with her, I can't even cry at my husband's death, she wants attention all the time."
The old woman eyed at her daughter in law.
*He is dead, Your son is dead*
They walked up to the beeping monitor. They walked limping a little, stretching out their legs from the cramps of travel. They finally saw the body kept alive through ventilator. Tangled with tubes, the alive carcass filled the room with stench of dead taking overpowering chemical. Almost all of the hall felt worthless.
The kids had chased their cousin to the parking lot, where she was sitting in a corner on prickly concrete ground, with her head hidden in between her folded legs.
"Mena"
"Go away"
Krish stepped closer and was hissed at by the girl. Madhu touched Mena's arm softly
"Mena, I'm sorry." and cried hugging her hard.
Krish leaned on a two wheeler a little ways away just staring at his sisters crying.
"They lie. They do nothing but accuse and blame and point at him. I want to break their fingers."
"What do you mean?" asked Krish
"They are lying about how he died. That's why I stole it. I saw all of them. All of them asked if Appa was drunk. They kept asking" she made a gesture of a bottle tipping to her mouth with her right hand.
"He wasn't drunk, a big truck came and… and…" and she could not finish the sentence.
"They are horrible. Asking such questions, all of them ask if mom needs money. We don't want your stupid help Ganesh uncle. You killed my dad's business. I hate you.' she cried out to the twinkling stars.
They would soon pull the plug, contact the 24/7 crematorium. A priest would arrive, the cries would get louder as the body is lifted above the shoulders people whose warmth could not permeate the glass. The cries would go downstairs to the waiting van already paid for; death keeps no tabs. They will see for the last time the wound that would never leave their mind. It will hang and dance around happy laughs, it will assault on soft whispers, it will try its best to remain as reflection of time forgone. It might become a fuel for many to build their life better. But for now, they all waited and acknowledged the worst crime done to their conscious.