Friday, August 29, 2014

My little child was died

                                                                     By Shisir Parajuli
I remember that date very well: 9th September 1999. I was in hospital. The hospital looked very horrified; the environment of the hospital seemed very gloomy as a very wild storm coming very soon. The dogs howling outside. It was Room no: 201 and bed no: 003 looked gloomier than other beds and rooms. The boy who was on the bed laid stiffs, his legs hanged outside from the bed, his body looked curved and static. He was in the pool of blood and he produced the sound of pain as if he got some sharp pin in his heart. And that sound makes me crazy because it was the sound produced by my little son.

            I can’t really imagine that day, when the doctor bended his head by saying that he was no-more. How could he leave me, huh! He promised me that he will always stay with us and cares us. How God could steal our child from us? How God could be selfish? Didn’t he had any idea of our son leave us we were be alone?

            As the doctor said me he was died from tuberculosis. My mind didn’t work at that time, only ears heard something from doctor’s mouth. He murmured something and tried to console me but I was lying in the floor as if I am going too died very soon.

            The doctor helped me to stand and fixed me to the small chair. Then, he said ‘Please sir control yourself and take the dead body of you child.’ ‘NO! MY SON WAS NOT DIED’, I replied toward doctor with loud voice. My son was not died. ‘Look! Look towards his eyes, his eyes says something to me’. He promised me that he will stay with us forever and you doctor said that he was died. How could I believe in your voice? No God can’t be rude like that. How could I give this message to his mother that her son was died? My wife’s prays, her faith upon god can’t be waste and be like garbage. No, I can’t! She will die if she saw her son’s death body.

            No one wants to listen my story so that I told my painful story to you my dear pet. Listen my rest of the story. The people in the hospital tried their best to console me and gave me sympathy but I was doing like obstinacy child and crazy like, the most important things from my life was lost or destroyed.

            After three hour, I controlled myself and came to the real world where my child leaves us, where I can’t imagine anything about this artificial world. I went near to my little child’s death body as doctor said that he was died but his eyes says something towards me. I can’t see that eyes in taking longer times. I was not able to read his eyes because I was also the part of his ultimate death because I can’t manage proper money and medicine for him. We basically belong to poor family, you know. But nobody wanted to listen my painful story that, ‘my child was died’.

            ‘Not everyone in this world has the fate to cherish the fullest form of love. Some are born, just to experience the abbreviation of it’. My child, my boy leaves us. That time…that moment… that second… I… I… I just thought…
‘My little child was died’

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