Gauransh Sharma, Class X G
Last week, I went to the market on my bicycle to buy some books. I placed my bicycle outside the shop which was situated at one of the oldest and most abandoned places of the city, perfect for a broody loner like me. It was a freezing evening in the middle of December. The complete darkness was only broken occasionally by the little man-made bonfires near the beggars sleeping on the cold barren pavement. The chilly wind was howling and therefore I entered the shop with my collars up and my jacket tightly sealed. I was welcomed by the beautiful note of the wind chime and the bibliopole who was standing at the counter with a friendly smile. He invited me towards the bookshelves which I often visited but today, I don’t know why, I moved towards the ‘L’ section.
I found the books neatly arranged except one book that looked dusty. I picked it up and patted it to remove the dust from the jacket. I read the title. ‘Grief Observed’ by C S Lewis. It was the blurb that brought tears of anger and grief. It read ‘deals with death’.
Honestly, I had never imagined I would be opening this leaf from the book of my life ever again. It was presumably buried deep beneath the thick misty veils of what everybody called memory. But there are some incidents that, at the sudden mention of certain words, shoot back as kaleidoscopes right in front of your eyes and the word ‘death’ has the same relation with me.
Three years ago, I was just eleven and never bothered much about my parents, my home, my school or the ice cream man at the gate. But June 03, 2015 (8:46 am) changed all of that as the first monsoon showers brought the muddy news of my mother’s death. I knew it was something bad but wasn’t aware of what it meant until I read her diary.
She had written ‘I leave my son with the most precious thing he needs. I have hidden it in his almirah somewhere in the bottom drawer’. I searched my almirah and found a box of chocolates, a bunch of straw, a toy heart and a letter. The letter read
‘Box of chocolates – be sweet to your enemy
Bunch of straw – make a lot of friends
Toy heart – Mom’
That moment shook me and I still curse death for that. I threw the book in a corner and ran towards the door. I rode my bicycle in the darkness and didn’t let the chilly wind blow my tears because I did need them now.
