Sonder
I warned him. I warned him a billion times. I told him we would get into a situation like this one. But who am I to question the boss of the house, the feeder of my family? But once again he was wrong and now he has left me to fight Mother Nature's war all by myself. Typical daddy.
By Anishta Khan
Category: প্রবন্ধ
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About Sonder
Home is where the heart is
I warned him. I warned him a billion times. I told him we would get into a situation like this one. But who am I to question the boss of the house, the feeder of my family? But once again he was wrong and now he has left me to fight Mother Nature's war all by myself. Typical daddy.
The minute I got on our boat I could smell it in the rush of unwelcoming wind that went passed me. But I never trusted my instincts. Even if I did, it was a perfect time to catch a couple of dozen fishes. The markets were going to open the next day and my father needed the money; we all did. Drought and starvation had struck our village and we've been struggling.
In just a few short minutes we were out at sea. My vision reached out till the far end of the horizon with nothing but endless water. That's when I realised that the clouds were darkening. My most feared situation had come true. The momentum of our tractable boat had gone haywire. The arm of the sail wobbled viciously and the small boat wobbled from one side to another until I saw my father falling, words and sounds lost to the roar of the sea. My dad fell from the small raft into the churning water. I reached out my hand and he caught it. The force of the sea was far too strong. I felt his hand trembling in horror. I had never seen his face look this scared. It turned pale white.
My father and I were never close. He would always keep us under strict rule. But a dad was a dad. You would not be able to have another one, and even if you do they would not be the same.
My hand felt like it was going to come off; my grip was loosening. This was not happening, I thought to myself. But reality was harder than that. He looked me in the eyes, and through the spray, I could see him give me a fleeting smile. It seemed to say, "Sometimes you have to let go to see if there was anything worth holding on to. Son, I am going to your mother; take care."
The waves swallowed him.
Guilt hit me in the gut. Was it really my fault? Did I murder my father? I could not answer those questions. I sat down, tears running down my cheeks. Tears were words the heart could not express.
But life must go on. I stuck my tongue out, ready to taste the first drop of rain after ten months...
It has been a few days that I had been at sea. My stomach was grumbling in frustration. Hunger and thirst were small complications for my living standards and I could tolerate it for a week without food. It had been raining hard the last couple of days and I got myself into a small fever. Survival was an uncertainty.
I closed my eyes an heard the splashing of waves; maybe that is how I would die: listening to the music of the sea. I pictured a flower in my head. My favourite flower blooming on the rosebush that I had planted in our yard a few years ago. "It's all said and done, it's real, and it's been fun." But my illusions blurred out and darkness took over. My mind faltered. I told myself, I am going home.
The blackness had been overcome by a tinge of light. Someone was stroking my forehead. I had felt this warm hand before. A hand I longed for years to touch me. My mum's hand. I forced my eyes to look up. Too bright to get a clear image, I could draw out my mum and dad. My mother looking down at me like a guardian angel with her ever long hair and then my father. Worry ran over his face, but a little smile appeared from somewhere underneath.
Pliny the Elder once said that 'a home is where the heart is'. Maybe I do not have a heart anymore but now I have both my parents and that is where my home is.
I warned him. I warned him a billion times. I told him we would get into a situation like this one. But who am I to question the boss of the house, the feeder of my family? But once again he was wrong and now he has left me to fight Mother Nature's war all by myself. Typical daddy.
The minute I got on our boat I could smell it in the rush of unwelcoming wind that went passed me. But I never trusted my instincts. Even if I did, it was a perfect time to catch a couple of dozen fishes. The markets were going to open the next day and my father needed the money; we all did. Drought and starvation had struck our village and we've been struggling.
In just a few short minutes we were out at sea. My vision reached out till the far end of the horizon with nothing but endless water. That's when I realised that the clouds were darkening. My most feared situation had come true. The momentum of our tractable boat had gone haywire. The arm of the sail wobbled viciously and the small boat wobbled from one side to another until I saw my father falling, words and sounds lost to the roar of the sea. My dad fell from the small raft into the churning water. I reached out my hand and he caught it. The force of the sea was far too strong. I felt his hand trembling in horror. I had never seen his face look this scared. It turned pale white.
My father and I were never close. He would always keep us under strict rule. But a dad was a dad. You would not be able to have another one, and even if you do they would not be the same.
My hand felt like it was going to come off; my grip was loosening. This was not happening, I thought to myself. But reality was harder than that. He looked me in the eyes, and through the spray, I could see him give me a fleeting smile. It seemed to say, "Sometimes you have to let go to see if there was anything worth holding on to. Son, I am going to your mother; take care."
The waves swallowed him.
Guilt hit me in the gut. Was it really my fault? Did I murder my father? I could not answer those questions. I sat down, tears running down my cheeks. Tears were words the heart could not express.
But life must go on. I stuck my tongue out, ready to taste the first drop of rain after ten months...
It has been a few days that I had been at sea. My stomach was grumbling in frustration. Hunger and thirst were small complications for my living standards and I could tolerate it for a week without food. It had been raining hard the last couple of days and I got myself into a small fever. Survival was an uncertainty.
I closed my eyes an heard the splashing of waves; maybe that is how I would die: listening to the music of the sea. I pictured a flower in my head. My favourite flower blooming on the rosebush that I had planted in our yard a few years ago. "It's all said and done, it's real, and it's been fun." But my illusions blurred out and darkness took over. My mind faltered. I told myself, I am going home.
The blackness had been overcome by a tinge of light. Someone was stroking my forehead. I had felt this warm hand before. A hand I longed for years to touch me. My mum's hand. I forced my eyes to look up. Too bright to get a clear image, I could draw out my mum and dad. My mother looking down at me like a guardian angel with her ever long hair and then my father. Worry ran over his face, but a little smile appeared from somewhere underneath.
Pliny the Elder once said that 'a home is where the heart is'. Maybe I do not have a heart anymore but now I have both my parents and that is where my home is.
