My Friend - Hari

The last few moments of his life was when he understood the purpose of life, its meaning that he failed to comprehend until now. Emotions invaded his still brilliant eyes. He had realized his mistakes, but life hardly gives anyone a second chance. We were all there watching when teardrops swelled his eyes and rolled over his pale cheeks. His eyes were now speaking the words his tongue failed to.  The last thing he talked about was how he loved all of us. He wanted us to forgive him for all his mistakes. Our mere presence was a relief to him, he said. He spoke about the kings and the white horses that would come to take him away to heaven. His words drowned in a cough that he was fighting to suppress. He fell silent. As if, he accepted the inevitable, as if there wasn’t any need to speak, as if he waited to fall asleep once and for all. There was a momentary gloom on his face, and then all of a sudden it lit up. Might be, he saw the golden chariot on the horizon!



Latha was there crying all along. She held his hands between hers clasping as if she would not let anyone steal him away from her. Her tears were unstoppable. He was her life’s purpose and now he lay right in front of her waiting silently for the inevitable and permanent departure. He had shared all his life’s ups and downs with her. She was there in his joy and sorrow, success and failure. But now, she had to bear all this pain alone. She loved him so much that she wished if she could trade her life with his death. I thought he understood her emotions and could read her mind. But he kept quiet and did not say anything to comfort Latha. He just took her hands, kept it on his forehead and asked her whether death is going to be painful. After all, in her laps he always felt comfortable, just like a newborn child. She kissed his forehead. A teardrop from Latha’s moist eyes jeweled his eyebrows. He kissed her hand in return and closed his eyes. I think he wanted to cry loud but managed to put a brave smile on his face. I was not able to control my tears; I do not remember myself crying ever before.



His brother, Giri was weeping profusely nearby his bed. He was his friend, philosopher, well-wisher and the world to Giri. They hugged and recalled the memories of the good old times. He promised that he would be there with him whenever he felt so. Giri fell on his chest as if he was listening to his fading heartbeat.



Next was my turn to bid farewell to my buddy. We had 15-20 years of fond memories to talk about and laugh. Instead, he just said one meaningful word, “Thank You”. I put on a brave smile and told him “Always welcome”. He reminded me, “You have to fill in my part. Please take care of her and let her never cry ever again.” He asked me to take his diary, read it and then burn it.  I never knew the fact that he maintained a diary. He had a special few to whom I was supposed to convey his love, regards and well wishes. I also typed his last e-mail and sent it out for him. My hands were shaking and I was feeling dizzy.



A cold breeze found its way into the hospital room disturbing our farewell. He wanted Latha to pull the blanket up his chest. He closed his eyes, whispering that he wanted to sleep. He held my hands firm. Slowly, his body went numb, grip eased and the palm lost the warmth. He was no more. His still lips remained stretched in an unfinished smile. We felt ourselves slipping into a vacuum created by his absence. I realized that I have lost something that I would never be able to replace and our life will never be the same from that moment. My legs couldn’t hold me further. I sat down. I could see that Latha, his mother had already fainted on his still body. Giri, with dry eyes, was staring at the smiling face he left behind.  my heart questioned, “God, is this what I lived all my 60 years to see? Is this the same happy family that it was a week back? My son, my friend – Hari is gone. We were never a father-son duo. We were two happy friends. Still he drifted far away from me. Why didn’t you give him a chance ?” As Hari lay there lifeless, my younger kid and wife shattered, I sat sobbing with one hand on Giri’s head and the other one on Hari’s cold head.



~Trilok~