I was running to my father asking him to help her. He stood there. Cold and lifeless. He watched me with empathy in his eyes. His hands tied, and his lips sealed. Only his eyes could tell me what he was really feeling. He was telling me to let go. He had come there to make sure I was fine. I remember running to him again and again, and each time I went to him, I’d ask him to look at her. She was still with us. I was asking him if there was something I could do to keep her longer. To save her.
Her mouth was twisted and her eyes were full of tears. She too looked at me with empathy. But of a different kind. Her eyes told me they had some hope. Her glance was not cold. It was warm. I could feel the warmth in her body. She was asking me to stay with her. But I kept running to him. Asking him for help he could not give. I knew he was long gone. Why then was I hoping that he would act? I was in despair. One that I have experienced before. It was a very familiar feeling. Just twice as strong.
I sent her a message first thing this morning. Asking her if it had rained there. No rain, she confirmed. But the rain was just an excuse. I just wanted to hear from her. To know that she is still with me. To confirm that it was just a nightmare. It must have been a nightmare. In dream his hands are not tied. His lips are not sealed. In dreams he is his vibrant self.
But even if it was indeed a nightmare, and the worst of its kind, I found a dream within it. It is the only time, after all these years, that I was accompanied by both my parents. We shared some moments together. Even if it was just in my subconscious mind. Those memories are mine to keep.
I came to work this morning and checked to see if it had rained in some part of Delhi. May be the moisture was just in my eyes. Delhi is yet to get its rainfall.