THAT ONE NIGHT

One night I strolled across her room.  She had left the door of her room half opened, so I entered quietly without much of her attention.

I was amazed to see her. She lay in her chair still. She seemed to be engaged in something-something very deep and thoughtful. Her head slightly bent while her eyes fixed at her hands.

“Are you okay?”, enquired I.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay very soon”, came the reply in a low chocking voice.

But deep down I knew she wasn’t alright. She looked differently. Her puffy red face had turned pale. Her mesmerizing divine eyes seemed to lose their strength. There was a sort of a strange expression on her face ;it wasn’t happiness, nor sadness, nor terror, nor anger, nor frustration, nor depression, nor joy; just a strange expression which I just couldn’t understand.

I asked her again,

“Are you okay, darling?”

I felt my words lost somewhere and there was no reply.

I rushed towards her and took her into my arms. Her body was cold, face so pale, lips blue, and her eyes slowly shut down. I tried to revive her. I tried to bring her pulse normal. But then, then I was rather surprised than shocked to see her wrists. I was even more startled than I would have willingly to express. I gazed at her art. An art which was far too different. It wasn’t the mountains, rivers or beaches. It was a simple but a ‘devastating ‘art indeed. The canvas was her arm , razor had been the paint-brush and only color she used was her blood. She had took an apparently unaccountable delight in it.

With tears in my eyes and emptiness in my heart I took my daughter’s lifelessly body in my arms. She was dead now but my heart would never let her go. My mind wanted to explode .

“Why didn’t I take care of her?”

“Why didn’t I tell her how much I love her?”

 ‘I wish I could surround her with the love-the love which I had never bestowed on her.’

‘I wish I could run back into the times and try to erase her pain-the pain that has engulfed her life.’

I can’t help but I feel defeated, or perhaps cheated. I won’t be able to hear her, not now, not never, just never.

My eyes sobbed another tear almost blinding me. My heart throbbed yet again and whispered softly to me

“At least for now, she will be more than safe in heaven with her mother.”

Reviews

[Ashish Hegde]

Good piece of writing. I liked the imagery with the wrist as the canvas and blood as paint.
Keep Writing.
Cheers!